In The Wake Of Change
by Samara-Draven
Summary: The Hero Of Ferelden, The Champion Of Kirkwall - both are highly celebrated. Both are gone. Theirs is a family of heroes and as a new threat emerges, so too will a new Amell stand. Hawke, Cullen, Alistair, DAO & DA2 characters and a few OCs for flavor
1. First Things First

There were many things Knight Captain Cullen could have considered possible when he'd been summoned to the Viscount's office but a room packed with every magistrate in Kirkwall, telling him he had to become Knight Commander wasn't on his list of possibilities. Neither was their insistence that he choose the next viscount. "_We need an unbiased voice. However temporary their appointment, a new leader has to be assigned,"_ they cried. In all honesty, Cullen could think of no one better than their Champion. The men in the room argued against it of course, "_A woman, a Ferelden and a known mage sympathizer to boot – oh the scandal!" _but when he reminded them of all the Champion had done for them and all she'd lost for them, they relented on the provision that they ask the person in question first AND made it clear the office was only for the time it took for Kirkwall to decide on a new permanent solution. It was only after he'd left to retrieve the Champion that the realization hit him: He'd endorsed a mage supporter. _Damn!_

So here he was, standing outside Hawke estate wondering what he could say to sway the Champion, wondering if he _should_. The many missions they'd collaborated on and the odd occasion of finding her drunk with her friends in the Hanged Man had given him the impression that Hawke would hate a life behind a desk. "Scion of the Amell family" suddenly seemed more a curse against her than the compliment he'd meant it all those years ago. He couldn't imagine the Hero of Ferelden's cousin would actually want the title, temporary or not. There was just no better alternative and Cullen didn't think any of the magistrates deserved the office. Ever. Election or no. Mage supporter or not, Marian was a better choice than most of Kirkwall.

Heaving a sigh, the Templar lifted the heavy brass knocker on the door three times and waited.

Hawke cursed her luck as she yanked the sash on her house robe into a crude bow. Of course someone would come calling when she was dripping wet and indecent. At least she was finished with her bath or she might not have bothered rushing downstairs. She grumbled yet again about Bodahn's timing. Of course he'd leave for Orlais just when her home became the go-to place of every Kirkwaller that needed help and every politician besides. Answering her own door was still an adjustment. She'd offered a ridiculous sum in pay as incentive for the dwarves' continued services but Bodahn insisted that this was the best time to travel: "_Give Kirkwall long enough to get back its bearings and there will be trouble again in no time."_

She sighed once more and wrenched the knob on the door, breath catching a little at the sight of her visitor. "Knight Captain Cullen…" Then the change in his armor got her attention, "Or Knight Commander, I see. Congratulations," she smiled.

"Messere Hawke," the Templar returned with a little bow, trying valiantly to keep his gaze above the low neckline of her rapidly growing damp robe and the glistening skin beneath. "I have news that requires your immediate attention. Though if this is a bad time?" He gulped silently as she swung the door wider and gestured him inside.

Duncan, her mabari, gave a loud 'woof' as he entered, prompting Marian to spin around and hush him, flinging strands of her lavender scented hair onto his breastplate with a heavy, wet smack.

Hawke blushed. "Sorry. I find myself home alone today now that Bodahn is gone."

Cullen smiled a little to think of the dwarf, and his son who always stared at his armor and cooed "Ooooh! Shiny!" every time he called on Hawke. "I thought you had an Elven servant girl? Orana, I believe is her name."

"It seems Fenris is intent on depriving me of her duties of late in the name of literacy."

Cullen felt his eyebrows draw together in confusion. "Literacy?"

"As slaves of the Tevinter Imperium, they were forbidden to learn to read. I taught Fenris and now he educates Orana."

"I see…" Cullen trailed off, watching a lone water droplet slither over Hawke's collarbone, making the creamy skin prickle. Though he could say with certainty that this member of the Amell family did not have nearly the sway on him as her cousin, he _was_ only human and he'd be lying if he said she didn't possess the same striking deep blue eyes, shining dark hair and that indefinable Amell trait that made them so unnervingly gorgeous and knowing. She caught the direction his eyes were heading and wiped away the water before it drew his attention further south and tugged her robe closed more.

"Well… there are some fresh biscuits and fruits in the kitchen. Oh! And some Orlesian pastries and cider, courtesy of Bodahn's patron; please make yourself at home. I'll return shortly."

"Oh I couldn't impose," the Templar began, though his stomach growled excitedly at the prospect of food, interrupted as his breakfast had been.

Hawke stamped her foot on the floor in an almost dainty way, wholly unlike the woman who bashed the Arishok in the head with a shield until he fell at her feet. "You've been to my home more times than I care to count, spying on me and my friends…"

Cullen didn't deny this but felt his face flush and looked at his feet. "It was always by order of Meredith, I assure you. Once she knew you and Anders were acquainted, she insisted you be watched. I just w-wasn't very good at it apparently."

Hawke smiled. "Nevertheless, you've used up all of your Guest Treatments and I insist you go find something appealing to pass the time while you're here in my estate, whatever it is, as though it were your own. I'll not have you standing about so awkwardly while you wait."

With that, she twirled around and all but ran up the stairs. He looked at Duncan. "She is very strange for a noble – not at all like the conceited stuffed shirts of the court." Duncan barked in approval and licked Cullen's hand, getting an ear scratch for his agreement.

"Now where is the kitchen?" Duncan barked again and walked through a doorway, pausing to make sure the Templar was behind him.

oOo

Hawke shivered and ran to the fire in her room, casting off her wet robe as soon as she knew she couldn't be seen and sighed as the warmth stole over her frigid skin. A small – okay maybe not small – impish part of her wondered how flustered her Templar guest would be if she paraded downstairs in her birthday suit. She wasn't exactly known for her modesty; camping in the middle of nowhere, being healed by Anders and just plain old getting caught in compromising situations left little of her body a mystery to her friends and riling up Cullen sounded like a fun idea… She knew however that he didn't deserve her doing such a thing to him. Not if she didn't have the intention of following through with what such a display promised. Cullen was serious like that and he wasn't her type.

She sighed, wishing she could find the man irresistibly everything she wanted, but they were just too different. It was a shame, really. Her love life would be far less complicated if they hit it off but they didn't and it was best not to be misunderstood in the first place.

The fire crackled loudly, bringing her back to the matter of getting dressed. She was almost dry, save for her thick waves of hair and eyed her closet. If only she knew why the ranking Templar was here she'd have a better idea as to what she needed to wear. The thought persisted even after she wiggled into her small clothes and a thin, gauzy shift that came to mid-thigh before her face broke into a grin. "Guess I do have a reason to mess with Cullen today after all."

She found the Templar perched atop a chair in the kitchen in front of a plate of pastries and grapes, Duncan lolling his tongue at his knees. "So!" She started brightly, swinging around the corner and smirking when he choked. "Are you here on official business? Or is there an unofficial job the Templars require me to perform and never admit to doing for them?"

Cullen was certain his face was an impossible shade of red. _Dear Maker! Did the woman have no decency? _"I-I d-don't know w-what you mean s-s-serah." His eyes roamed over the dim shadow that was her hip under the opaque fabric of her shirt.

Hawke sighed dramatically, bringing his eyes back to her hers. "I _mean_ am I going to need to my shiny metal suit or can I get away with wearing day clothes?"

Despite his fluster over her current state of undress, Cullen recovered quickly enough, more quickly than he would have twelve years ago. By the Maker! Was he ever glad not to be eighteen anymore! "I was under the impression the Champion of Kirkwall didn't know such a thing as day clothes existed."

Hawke couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out because he had a point. Varric teased her mercilessly about it. Still, there was a challenge in that response and she replied in kind. "No you have that mistaken for "small clothes". I couldn't tell you a thing about small clothes."

If he hadn't blushed all the way to his roots and returned his hair to its former red hue by now, Andraste Herself must have had a hand in this. "Y-you have been s-summoned to the Viscount's office to discuss matters of state. Wearing armor might be counterproductive, milady."

"I see." Hawke returned to her chambers, mildly put out that Cullen wasn't telling her anything about what the magistrates wanted with her. She opted for a dress in a lavender color with a dark brown leather corset and bracers; complete with her favorite armored boots. She always found dressing to impress was more effective if she added a little intimidation to the ensemble. She decided that wrangling her hair into a plait would take more time than was fair to Cullen and went down to the kitchen again.

The sight of her mabari getting a belly rub while Cullen cooed at him brought old memories to the surface, of her siblings and mother doting on the hound. Suddenly the bleak knowledge that her family was gone gripped her and she had to choke back a sob. Though Duncan made her laugh when his tongue lolled out of his mouth in a wide doggy grin.

Cullen looked up to see Hawke watching them. "He likes you."

"He's a good boy and likes everyone," Cullen returned.

Hawke 'Hmmed' at that and grabbed a pastry from the platter and tossed it at the mabari who bowled the Templar over in his scurry to get onto his paws and dive for the treat.

"Cullen!" Hawke was instantly at his side, helping him back to his feet. "Are you alright?"

"I think I bruised my pride a little but I'll live." This close, he could see again that Hawke's eyes were identical to those of Aeryn Amell and gasped equal parts grief and joy. "You have the same eyes."

Marian sighed and resisted the urge to hide said eyes from view. "What was she like, my cousin?"

Cullen stammered. "Oh… uh – I-I didn't kn-know her terribly –"

"You knew her for years. She even mentioned you in her letters."

This got the man's attention. "L-Letters? I thought you never knew her."

Hawke smiled kindly. "Ironically, I didn't until Templars came to our house in Lothering, looking for her. They didn't tell us her name or anything, just left a description. She approached us afterward and my father – so worried about inviting Templar scrutiny and desperate to keep Bethany safe thought having the Chantry's gratitude might be valuable so he turned her in." Hawke's eyes went distant with the memory. "We were playing Keystone when four metal giants barged in and took her away. The Templar who thanked us let slip that she was an Amell on the run from Kirkwall. Mother was heartbroken that we'd betrayed one of our own. Bethany cried for days."

"They couldn't have known," Cullen found himself quick to reassure. "All they told you was she was an apostate on the run. Your parents couldn't have known who she was."

Hawke's gaze focused on him, so like Aeryn that he sighed a little. But where he expected gentle wisdom and a smile, biting sarcasm dripped from Hawke's tongue instead: "At seven? What seven year-old can be an apostate on the run all the way from Kirkwall? We were foolish and we learned a valuable lesson that day."

Cullen paced away, to stare out the window but he wasn't seeing the street outside as he wrestled with his Templar sense of duty and compassion toward his friend. "Knight-Commander Greagoir was the one who saved your cousin from death or Tranquility. He said much the same as you just did: 'Do you honestly think a _child_ could have run this far from Kirkwall? Mage or not?' His investigation discovered she had been taken by slavers after her magic had been reported but before the Templars reached her. He took her by the hand, introduced her to Irving and Wynne and even handled making her phylactery himself." Cullen smiled fondly at the memory. "She was like a grand-daughter to him…" _Until I ruined that forever when I took notice of her_, he thought but didn't add.

"Greagoir?" Hawke was incredulous. "I met him once in Lothering's Chantry. He seemed more like the sort to happily shout from the rooftops that mages are born evil incarnate. Of course I was only twelve."

That his mentor's more severe personality outlived him so, brought a chuckle to Cullen's lips. "That's precisely how he would have wanted it, however… though he was stern, and grew more so as time passed, he wasn't unreasonable."

Hawke didn't say anything to this so he barreled on more to fill the silence than anything. "To answer your question, Aeryn was… kind, soft-spoken, she had this gentle way about her, always smiling like she could take away whatever troubled you with a touch of kindness." Cullen's own expression slipped to mirror the memory he held so fondly even as his eyes became a little too bright. "She was beautiful to behold, as you've no doubt heard before but there was a beauty in who she was that I've never seen in anyone else. I remember the bets on her harrowing were almost all against her. Most of my fellows thought that someone so delicate would fail and fast."

"But not you?" Marian hedged.

"As gentle as she was, her spine may as well have been made of dragon bone. I had seen her go toe to toe with Greagoir and Wynne before – at the same time even. She never backed down or lashed out… she was calm and undeterred. I guess I had a bit of a different perspective. Her causes were always just, though. She never did anything to harm anyone or for personal gain. When her Harrowing took place, it was over so quickly and with no fuss I think even Irving was surprised. Greagoir had been only half joking about having her go through it again because he thought something went wrong and that she hadn't really been to the Fade. It was only his trust in Irving that stopped him. Then that business with Jowan happened. I wanted her to deny it, swear she had nothing to do with it but she stood there, head held high. For one terrible moment I thought I'd been a fool to trust her… that it had been my duty and I failed."

Marian's eyes went wide. "_You_ were the one they assigned for the killing blow at her Harrowing."

"I was," Cullen admitted, feeling shame creep into his features.

"And then the Wardens came?"

"Yes, but not before Irving absolved her of her involvement with the blood mage: she had never betrayed her duty despite the cost to her friend and had been working with the First Enchanter the entire time. Greagoir wasn't too happy about it but she was taken by the Wardens and I expected never to see her again. Until Uldred…"

The memory of what the Circle had endured those many days shook Cullen's voice and Marian laid a hand on his arm, hoping it would be comfort enough to bring him out of his thoughts. "I'm sorry. I should learn to keep my curiosity to myself. You obviously cared for her and now she's gone and – I'm sorry, Cullen. We should return to more pleasant topics."

"I would appreciate that. Although…" he laughed shakily. "You mentioned letters?"

Hawke smiled. "Wait here." She ran upstairs to the chest she kept of her life in Lothering and retrieved a bundle of envelopes tied by a blue ribbon. When she returned to Cullen, she hesitated. "There may be some things you'll find disappointing… I guess I just don't want you to judge her."

"I give you my word; nothing could change my opinion of her. I'd like to think it would make her more real to me."

Hawke handed them over. "Then I give these to you, dear ser. Treat them well."

Cullen sputtered again. "I-I couldn't keep them! They're yours."

"I have read them, many times. I've also copied them in my journal because I feared I was handling them too much."

"But they're your letters," he tried again to argue.

"I think Aeryn would find it fitting that you have them. There is much she wanted to say to you but couldn't and I'd never be able to express her thoughts with any justice. It's best if you read her words yourself."

Cullen could only take the bundle and nod. "Thank you, Hawke."

"Just don't let the others get their hands on them. So, shall we be going now? I think I've had enough melancholy for one day."

Cullen laughed and gestured toward the door. "After you, Champion."

"Marian, ser Templar; my name is Marian."

"After you… Marian."

oOo

Outside the Viscount's Keep, they ran into Alistair and Leliana who seemed to know something they didn't and none of Alistair's needling would make her talk though she did smile and giggle at his efforts. Once inside, the chaos they encountered made any attempt at conversation impossible. It only dimmed to a manageable echo once they were in the Viscount's overcrowded office.

"So," Alistair began with a clap of his hands. "What's all this about? Leliana dragged me away from a perfectly good wheel of cheese to be here."

"We called for the Champion's presence but I don't recall requesting yours," Seneschal Bran all but sneered.

"Maybe _you_ didn't," Leliana said, stepping forward, "but I represent The Divine and she asked for his attendance."

"The Divine has no jurisdiction over matters of state, sister."

Leliana straightened her spine at the challenge the shorter man presented and her voice went deadly calm. "She does when the state in question has only recently been through a mage rebellion, its Chantry destroyed and the streets run rampant with abominations, abominations that are still being discovered and dealt with as we speak. Her first inclination was to send the armies of the Chantry to raze Kirkwall to the ground. You should be grateful she was persuaded to see the wisdom in another alternative."

The seneschal at least had the decency to pale and lick his lips nervously. "I don't suppose you have any documents of the Divine's order?"

Leliana's lips parted in a grim smile. "I don't need them. The Divine is here."

As if on cue, the doors to the cramped office opened and half a dozen of the largest Templars Hawke had ever seen filed in and parted to allow a small old woman in golden robes to pass. Her white hair was pulled mercilessly back into a tight bun and her head bore a gold circlet from which a Chantry Symbol dangled daintily in the middle of her forehead and brilliant golden rays fanned from the crown of her head as though she were the sun itself.

"Your Holiness," Leliana breathed and sank to one knee.

Alistair followed suit immediately, Hawke and Cullen a half step behind him but the magistrates continued to stare dumbly. The Divine eyed the men standing, critically before smiling at those bowed before her. "Please rise, children." Her voice was deep and smooth and utterly calm, softly spoken though it seemed to echo off the walls.

For a moment, everyone simply stared at one another until Alistair broke the silence. "Okay, anyone at any time can tell me what's going on and why I need to be here. I swear I won't mind." Leliana gave him a sympathetic smile but the rest of the room ignored him.

"Y-your Grace," Bran said, giving an aborted half curtsy kind of gesture before returning to the matter at hand. "Forgive my bluntness but what brings you here?"

Appearing to gather herself, the Divine took a breath and then sighed. "Kirkwall needs a leader in these difficult times. Ferelden is in no position to help if an opportunistic nation were to decide now is the time to take this city."

Bran rushed to assure the Chantry's figurehead. "That is why we have convened here today, your Grace."

"To make Marian Hawke the transitional viscount," the Divine said sharply. "I know."

"Me?" Hawke gulped. "I-I can't –"

"Do not worry, child. I have something that may be far more important for you to do."

Alistair leaned into Leliana enough to whisper, "Is it me or does it seem like she doesn't like the seneschal?"

Leliana stifled a giggle. "At least she seems to like you and Hawke."

"I can live with that."

"We can't remain without governance while we decide who is to be the next Viscount… your Grace," said one of the magistrates.

The older woman stared icily at the man. "You have one. Alistair has shown a remarkable ability to make difficult decisions; he will govern Kirkwall for the foreseeable future." The Divine would never admit it but she took a small amount of pleasure from the shocked outrage this elicited from those assembled.

"A Ferelden?" cried one.

"The Bastard Prince?" shouted another.

Alistair was just plain horrified. "Your Holiness, I don't think this is a good idea. I have no standing –"

"You were among Aeryn Amell's companions and saw The Blight to an end. You've proven you are capable of doing your duty."

"Aeryn made the decisions! I followed her lead. If it had been up to me, I would have been the one who died."

Cullen blanched to hear it said so bluntly and curled the bundle of letters tighter under his arm. What was said next only hurt more, as did the sad look The Divine gave the Grey Warden.

"The woman you loved chose to make the ultimate sacrifice so that Ferelden would have the more experienced Grey Warden to rebuild and a potential ruler if the need arose. You could have defied her orders with the ritual Morrigan suggested."

"Y-you… knew about that? How?"

"I have my ways… and you have yours. That you supported The Hero's decision speaks highly of your character. I know that you will always do the right thing and I trust no one else to lead Kirkwall."

"Yeah I'm a real hero," Alistair grumbled bitterly. He felt he'd been a coward not to accept Morrigan's offer. He'd been appalled that the witch had even suggested it and grateful that Aeryn had wanted nothing to do with it but every day since he wished he could go back and insist that they agree. His love would still be with him if he had.

The Divine didn't see it that way apparently. "You could have lain with the apostate and ensured Aeryn lived to celebrate the Archdemon's fall but the horror that could have resulted from such a union would have endangered us all. You are too hard on yourself, Alistair Theirin."

Alistair flinched at the use of his paternal name and all but snarled. "So I'm a good little soldier. It doesn't mean I can run a kingdom."

"You may not _want_ to but I'm certain you can. I will leave Leliana here to help."

"Your Grace?" The former bard obviously didn't see this coming and Alistair thought _"Ha!"_ at her. She scowled at him as if he'd actually said it. For a delirious moment he wondered if he had.

"You are Seneschal now, Leliana –"

"This is outrageous!" One of the magistrates stepped forward, this one not bothering with proper titles or even with being polite. "An Orlesian? You can't do this to us! You have no jurisdiction here!"

"That's right!" This came from one in the back, prompting the others to mumble their agreement.

"If the Chantry puts its own puppet on Kirkwall's throne, we'll be little more than a tool for religious agendas!"

The Divine narrowed her eyes at them, expression hard. "Until last night, I was set on turning your city into rubble and would have been justified in doing so. No Chantry in all of Thedas would argue against it after what occurred here. If you wish Kirkwall to remain standing, this is how I insist it be done." Her features softened. "Alistair will be his own conscience in his governance. The Chantry will have no more a role in Kirkwall's affairs than it has had in the past but I will accept _**NO **_other leader than Alistair." The threat was explicitly implied: to usurp Alistair was to sign their death order.

Bran swallowed and looked rather ashen but he was the first to kneel before his new ruler. "Viscount –"

"King," The Divine corrected. This was met with more looks of outrage and Bran flinched. "If Kirkwall is to begin a new era, doing away with that old title is appropriate, don't you think?"

"King Alistair," Bran tried again and the others slowly, stiffly followed suit.

Alistair groaned. "Why me? They were going to appoint Hawke as their ruler. They know her and she's their Champion. After all she's done for them; she has to be a better choice than me."

"Don't bet on it," Marian retorted. Alistair raised an eyebrow at her, surprised she hadn't automatically started treating him like a king as the others had and was glad for it. "Besides," she added, "I look terrible in a crown."

At that Alistair laughed. "Oh I don't know… something shiny, dainty and Dalish would probably look quite fetching on all that hair."

Behind him Cullen snorted. "Dainty? Hawke? Not on your life."

"I can be dainty," Hawke insisted and only made the Templar snicker, surprising everyone.

"Wow," Alistair said. "You _do_ have a sense of humor. Last time I saw you, you were all 'Mages are evil, grrr…'"

Cullen was surprised to discover he could laugh about it. "I've had time to mellow out a bit."

"So it appears."

Hawke stepped in front of Alistair, nearly eye-level with him. "Mind what you say about my friend, your _highness_."

Alistair's eyes narrowed. "That depends… Is he your friend or your _friend_?"

Hawke gaped at him. "Maker help me, you're just as terrible as Aeryn said you were."

"When did you ever get to talk to Aeryn?" Alistair barked, eyes round.

"Letters," Cullen offered helpfully, holding the bundle up.

"Let me see those," he demanded and dove for the templar who simply raised his hand high above his head.

Alistair wasn't short by any definition but as tall and long of limbs as Cullen was, he had no hope of reaching the parcel however much he jumped and demanded "I am your king and you will hand me those letters!" while Leliana and Hawke looked on, giggling.

The Divine only half listened to their banter as she sent the magistrates away. Outwardly she frowned at the display but to herself she smiled to see Kirkwall's new ruler was already making all the prominent friends he'd ever need to.

oOo

"Now that the business of who will rule Kirkwall is settled, onto more pressing matters," the Divine said as she settled in a chair.

Alistair took the former viscount's seat and waited. Everyone else but Hawke and Cullen sat and when the Divine looked up at her expectantly, she shuffled from one foot to another.

"I prefer to stand your Grace," she said. Cullen silently agreed with the sentiment.

"I prefer not to crane my neck to speak with you. I would like you to sit." The Divine said in a tone that left no room for a rebuttal and waited until the Champion was seated awkwardly in a chair. The Divine lounged against the furniture a little but Hawke kept her back straight, shoulders squared.

Watching her, Alistair found his idle thoughts murmuring to him how she had a regal bearing and the light purple of her dress went beautifully with her dark hair and pale pink skin. And the eyes! Oh Maker he'd been lost to just such a pair of eyes once before and wondered if he was doomed to be forever ensnared by the females of the Amell family.

The King's regard of Hawke wasn't lost on Cullen and he felt jealousy spike through him. He knew he and Hawke were friends – would only ever be friends – but he'd entertained the possibility of there being more between them once upon a time and to have the same man who had been able to love Aeryn when he'd been forbidden, now have a chance with another woman he couldn't love rankled him more than he expected. That it was his choice to remain Hawke's friend, not an edict of his vows, mattered little to how unfair it seemed.

Both men were brought out of their respective musings when the object of those thoughts squeaked, "A sister? Aeryn never mentioned she had a sister."

"No," Alistair echoed. "She didn't."

"She had only just learned of her when it was time to confront the archdemon. I do not exaggerate when I say that she died mere days after receiving Sora's letter."

"But she would have said something to me," the king insisted.

"Alistair…" Leliana softly called to him. "She didn't want to worry you or make you feel even more guilt about her sacrifice."

Anger flashed in his eyes and they narrowed but the half pout ruined the glare. "You _knew! _How could she tell you and not me?"

"The Grey Wardens needed to rebuild. You might have become King... She was concerned you might abandon these goals to find Sora and certain you would tear yourself apart with guilt if you didn't."

Alistair scowled. "Not knowing about it doesn't make me any less guilty – now I just have to swallow ten years of it in one go! Have you ever swallowed too much food at once? Well let me tell you, it hurts kind of the same way. "

"She was trying to protect you, Alistair," the bard returned patiently. Clearly she was used to the man's rants.

Her friend scoffed. "She helped me find Goldanna and I would have liked the chance to return the favor but thanks to this 'protection' Sora has been held captive in Tevinter all this time!"

"And it is past time we rescued her," Hawke said, voice resolute. Everyone in the room nodded their agreement.

"But why is the Chantry interested in Aeryn's sister, your Grace?" Leliana asked.

"I cannot tell you just yet," the Divine said primly. "Just know that Sora could be very important in times to come."

"So now you're a prophet too?" Alistair quipped.

"What I know could endanger all who go on this quest and I will not take that risk until I'm certain of something."

"Which is…?"

The Divine smiled fondly. "Nice try your Majesty."

Alistair slumped and grumbled. "Worth a shot..."

The older woman shifted her attention back to Hawke, back ramrod straight. "You will need an escort. Going into Tevinter is dangerous at the best of times but once wind of your presence gets around, you will find yourself going up against powerful mage lords at every turn. I suggest no less than a full contingent of Templars –"

"Your Grace, if I barge into Minrathous with a dozen chantry-men I will definitely be noticed and then we will wish we'd brought an army. It's best to go with as few as we can manage and keep them guessing about the validity of their reports; better to be a rumor than a blatant declaration."

"If you have to sneak and slink across the Imperium, you will lose time and according to the missive we received you need to be there in seven days."

Cullen started. "What? That's not possible."

"If you push hard, you can make it but only just."

"No room for error then," Hawke said. "But we go light."

"Maybe the Divine has a point," Alistair hedged. "Having a bunch of Templars around will be safer."

"Awww! You're worried about my safety? I didn't know you cared, my king." She waited until Alistair blushed and looked away before addressing the Divine. "I didn't get where I am by being safe. If this needs to be done swiftly, the fewer we take with us the better. We'll be less conspicuous and move faster with only a few people to keep track of."

The Divine conceded. "You're the adventurer, not me. But you will take at least a Templar or two with you."

"I volunteer myself and Ser Keran, Your Grace," Cullen immediately offered and received a nod.

"And you will need at least one mage. I will give your sister leave to join you. No doubt she would like to meet this Sora; she is Bethany's cousin as well."

Hawke blinked in surprise. "Thank you."

"Why the deadline, your Holiness?" Leliana: ever with the important questions, Hawke mused. "What has happened that Sora needs to be retrieved so soon?"

The Divine sighed, face a mixture of disbelief and sadness and for a moment most thought she wouldn't tell them. "Though she isn't a mage, there is a magister there who wishes to make an example of her for her recent attempts to escape. During the new moon they plan to make her Tranquil in front of thousands."

Cullen couldn't help thinking that he'd never heard a silence as loud as the one that followed the Divine's statement. Alistair, being the first to break it, went with the most unpleasant assumption. "So the Chantry doesn't want their precious secret of Tranquility to get out…"

"I wish that was our only concern," the Divine replied sharply. "This woman may be of great importance – I can't tell you what that significance is – but if she is made Tranquil, she will lose that significance."

"I thought only mages could be made Tranquil," Hawke said.

"Mages are the only ones we have ever _needed_ to make Tranquil but it can be done non-mages too and with disastrous results."

"Aside from the whole zombie-thing," Alistair added.

The Divine ignored him and continued. "Everyone goes to the Fade when they sleep. The connection for a non-mage is greatly diminished but there still must be one if a person is to dream. When that connection is severed in a non-mage, the person won't be able to dream. If this happens to Sora she will go mad in a matter of hours before succumbing to Tranquility… if she is lucky. In mages, because of their stronger connection to the Fade, the result is immediate but in non-mages, as the body tires madness takes over. Unable to go into the Fade to dream, the mind destroys itself. The best outcome one can hope for is Tranquility but madness and a painful death are more common."

"So because it's quicker and less messy with mages that makes it okay but because the horror of it is more apparent in non-mages, you can't allow it?"

"Alistair!" The Divine was glaring at him now. "I will tolerate no more of that. Trust me when I say Sora Amell doesn't deserve this. She's a victim of the Black Divine – an innocent! That is all you need to know."

"She's family," Hawke said, getting up from her chair. "And she's in trouble. That's all_ I_ need to know, your Grace, your Majesty." With a curt bow, Marian turned on a heel and headed for the door, Cullen following right behind her.

"Bethany and Keran will meet you at the gates," Alistair called after her.

"We should bring your friends with us," Cullen suggested when they were out of earshot.

Hawke smiled. Cullen _had_ learned a thing or two about discretion. She couldn't imagine the Divine would have approved of her little gang tagging along but she'd have it no other way.

"Well I suppose if I happen upon them while quenching my thirst at the Hanged Man and they learn of my trip, I can't say no to them if they insist on joining us. And last I checked they were your friends too."

Cullen grinned. "Only just; though I could use a drink myself."

oOo

Back at the Keep, Alistair grumbled, "I thought you said the Divine liked me, Leliana?"

The redhead smiled. "She does."

"So she sends Hawke off on some important quest and sticks me here? As king of Kirkwall?"

The Orlesian considered him for a moment. "There are men who embrace Destiny, Alistair, and by their hand the world is forever changed. And there are men who run from Destiny, only to have it swallow them whole. This was always _your_ destiny. Will you take hold of it or let it consume you?"

The King scrunched his face at his friend. "Come to think of it, the Divine doesn't seem to like you much either."

Leliana's laugh rang all the way down the main chamber of the keep.

oOo

At the Hanged Man Varric was nearly bouncing at the prospect of another adventure. Granted it probably wouldn't pay much but he'd always wanted to see The Imperium and now he had a reason to go, heavily armed and with his friends beside him. Isabela crooned over the prospect of "more Fenrises" to ogle and immediately made arrangements to have her ship looked after.

Hawke did her best to hide the hurt the pirate's words caused. She knew well the allure of the elf in question and wondered again if there was anything she could have done to stop him ending their relationship and taking up with her friend instead. The memory of Isabela nervously admitting to their entanglement, still brought a savage satisfaction that soothed the Champion's raw nerves. It wasn't fair to the other woman; she and Fenris had long been officially over when Isabela had made her move – or moves rather. It had reportedly taken many drunken nights and most of Isabela's coin to woo Fenris. That brought a little satisfaction too.

"Hawke…"

_Speak of the devil._

Isabela shifted next to her, features soft with concern. "I know we haven't been close lately… but you're still my friend and I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I'm fine."

"I know but are you _really_ fine? Or just "fine"? You don't have to give me a sobbing confession or anything – unless you need to."

"Me sobbing? Are you mad?" Hawke feigned horror and Isabela giggled.

"Oh the scandal! 'The Champion is human after all!'"

"'She has emotions and everything!'" Hawke was joking more to hide her discomfort but the laugh they shared felt surprisingly genuine.

Isabela sighed. "I just want us to be friends again. I miss you. And I swear I had no idea you and Fenris – I mean I knew he liked you but you never –"

"It's alright, Izzy. I'm over it." _Mostly. _"Speaking of Fenris, is he coming?"

"He wanted to," Isabela hedged. "But he felt it best that, with Bodahn gone, someone should stay and keep Orana company. It might have been more my idea actually." At Hawke's look, the Rivaini added quickly. "I just thought it would be awkward enough for the two of us going on this quest without him brooding at everyone."

"You have a point." Hawke sighed.

"So!" Varric called out to the room. "I everyone ready?"

Behind the dwarf, a tall man with strawberry blond hair, broad shoulders and a familiar square jaw stepped through the door and Hawke stared a moment before recognition dawned. "Cullen?"

The Templar fidgeted at the sound of his name as it set all eyes on him. Hawke blinked several times to be sure that the man dressed in dark leather before her was indeed her friend.

"Hey! Where's your shiny plating?" Varric asked and tugged quizzically on a cobalt blue sleeve of the shirt the man wore.

"Considering our destination, I thought parading around in armor bearing the Templar insignia was a Bad Idea."

"Well," Isabela whistled. "I guess it _isn't_ just padding under all that tin."

Cullen narrowed his hazel eyes at her. "It's silverite and no."

Hawke's brain finally managed to shift from staring to practical. "Not that I'm complaining," she leered a little and smirked at his blush. "But you need armor. Leather won't protect you from arrows and steel."

"I'll be fine." Cullen insisted, a hint of desperation in his voice. He met her eyes but shifted around nervously.

It suddenly dawned on Hawke why he seemed embarrassed and mentally kicked herself. "We'll meet everyone at the gates; Cullen I have something I need to discuss with you about our mission before we leave."

The Templar flushed an even deeper shade of red like a kid caught stealing but simply mumbled "Of course" and trailed after Hawke.

Varric chuckled to himself; _she's going to get her way on this one come hell or high water_.

Cullen resisted the urge to stare at his feet as he walked with Hawke into Hightown. He'd expected her to stop at one of the shops but she strode past every one and went straight to her estate. The dim interior felt nearly suffocating after the bright day outside.

"Why didn't you tell me you needed armor?" Hawke rounded on him.

Cullen expected this and raised his chin defiantly. "Because I refuse to become indebted to you and, to be honest, I didn't think of it until I was gathering my things. I've never needed any armor but what the Chantry issues to its Templars."

"Well you need armor now and it's not a debt if it's payment for your service on this mission."

Cullen blinked. "I seem to recall being drafted by the Divine, not employed by you."

Hawke waved the statement away. "She needed Templars – any would have done – but you volunteered to accompany me and we're going to rescue my cousin. You have no personal stake in this so I shall compensate you."

"On the contrary, you're my friend. Aeryn Amell once was too and this Sora is family to you both. I don't want to see you hurt and in a country full of maleficarum, you will need me. I also think it would be nice to get out of Kirkwall for a while so I have enough personal interest in this journey."

Marian could understand that but she wasn't going to let him win this debate. "Still, you're no use to me dead and you will get hurt without armor. You're a warrior, Cullen; it's how you fight." He opened his mouth to protest but she barreled over him. "You forget we've worked together many times and I know your style. Trust me, you will get struck and without protection, you will be hurt."

Cullen shook his head, the truth of her words mocking him even as his pride resisted. "A full set of armor is too costly. I can't let you spend that kind of coin for me."

"I may not need to."

Curiosity piqued, he followed her to the family vault where, standing in the back, was a gleaming set of armor. The craftsmanship was among the best he'd ever seen, much better than the Chantry ever spent on the Templars and he could make out enchantment runes etched into the collar.

He stepped toward it, half hoping it wouldn't fit because it'd only get marred in the near future if he took it. It just didn't seem right. A mark on the bottom right side drew his attention and he murmured in awe, "This is from Wade's in Denerim…"

"It was my brother's," Hawke said, watching him as he fingered the hard edge where his arm would go.

"It's beautiful," he whispered. A closer inspection of the smooth surface revealed a scale pattern, ghostly lines dipping across the plate. "Is this dragon scale?"

Hawke nodded.

"It's been fused into one piece like plate." He stroked the shining surface again. "I've never seen a silver dragon before."

"The underside of dragon scale looks like silverite," Marian explained. "Master Wade was more than happy to go on at length about how difficult inverting and fusing dragon scales – without breaking them – can be. He knocked a bit of gold off the price for listening to him. I was fascinated, actually." Hawke felt sadness creep into her countenance and added: "Mother commissioned it for Carver when he joined King Cailan's army."

Cullen pulled back as if burned. "He died in this?" He found the idea of that disturbing.

A rueful smile lifted the corners of Hawke's mouth. "No. If he had been wearing it, he may have survived the ogre… but he insisted in putting it on me when I was wounded at Ostagar." She laughed a little. "You should have seen me – I could almost swim in it!"

Cullen laughed too, something in his chest easing. Carver was a true and typical Hawke: self sacrificing to the last. "Your brother was a hero Marian."

"Yes, he was, though he'd be the first to disagree." Drawing herself to her full height she reached for the breast plate. "Let's get you suited up. The others are waiting."

oOo

Cullen couldn't stop staring at the gleaming plate that covered him. It was highly polished but the metal had a matte finish and it glowed softly, like satin. The Hawke family crest was etched in raised gold on the breastplate and every edge of metal had a scalloped red pattern dipping into the muted silver of the armor. Carver, though nearly his twin in body, was a little narrower than he and the straps anchored to his torso were a bit snug so he'd had to punch new holes in them but it fit almost perfectly in every other way. And the movement was unbelievable! It was light, though it looked like full heavy plate and the metal was cut shorter and staggered on the mounts which allowed him to move almost as if he wore no armor at all. It also didn't clank and creak like his Templar armor did; in fact it was eerily silent as he moved. He had to catch himself many times before a pleased grin bloomed on his face. Armor like this was reserved for highborn lords and he'd never have seen the like on his person with his salary. He could hardly believe he was wearing it. If his head seemed to tilt a little higher than usual as he passed the gawking nobles of Hightown, Hawke didn't call him on it.

When the gates of Kirkwall leading into the dense untamed lands beyond came into view, neither warrior was surprised to see Alistair standing there with Keran and Leliana while her companions bickered amongst each other not far away.

"Such charming company you keep," the king drawled as they drew near.

"They remind me of our little party, Alistair," giggled Leliana.

"What? They are nothing like our noble group of friends!"

The bard arched an eyebrow at him. "Tell me, what was noble about arm-wrestling Sten for the last cookie?"

Hawke choked down a laugh while Alistair gaped. "I can't think straight on an empty stomach and if we'd been ambushed, I could have been struck down because I was addle-brained and then who would have helped Aeryn defeat The Blight? I needed that cookie for the good of Ferelden. Even though it would rot my teeth and make my armor tight, I was willing to accept that for a _noble_ cause."

"So you're saying Sten isn't noble?"

"He's noble… most of the time. He and I just didn't agree about what was the right course of action that night."

"So letting him break your arm over a cookie was an act of honor?"

Hawke gasped and Cullen grinned. "He broke your arm?"

"In three places," Leliana added to Cullen's delight.

"Wow," the Templar breathed. "I'd love to meet this Sten character."

"You're welcome to go to Par Vollen and track him down if you like," the king said sourly.

Cullen's face fell and Hawke tensed next to him. "He's a Qunari?" she asked levelly. "And you take issue with the company_ I_ keep?" She didn't have the best memories of the giants.

"Not all Qunari are like the ones who tried to take Kirkwall, you know."

"It was their damnable 'certainty' that motivated them and they don't tolerate anyone in their society who might question it. If this Sten was able to return home, maybe he isn't as different as you think."

"You…" Alistair pointed a finger at her and took a step closer. "Okay I really can't argue with that logic but he was my friend and he helped defeat the Blight. We saved people together, instead of killing them, like your buddy An –"

_SLAP!_

Hawke glared, vision blurring, breath coming hot and heavy, her hand itching to strike again if only to erase the sting of the blow she just delivered with fresh pain. She seethed, watching the king – her king – flex his jaw experimentally, waiting for him to order guards to seize her.

When nothing happened, she found the words – somewhere – that she needed to say. "Anders received his punishment," she snarled, voice breaking a little. "He'd become the abomination he feared and as his _friend_ I had to free him from that. How dare you –"

"I'm sorry," Alistair interjected, hand still cradling his wounded cheek. He never could stand to see tears in a woman's eyes, especially _those_ eyes. "That was uncalled for and really unforgivable on my part. I guess I… wasn't thinking." He laughed a little. "I shouldn't have said that." He flexed his jaw again and a pained "Ah!" escaped him.

Hawke felt her anger dissolve and reached out to tilt his head so she could survey the damage. "You'll live." The skin under her palms warmed as a flush spread over his cheeks but she chalked it up to embarrassment.

"Getting slapped by a national hero: something else I can cross off of my Experiences-I've-Never-Wanted list." He plucked her hands off of his face and a shiver raced up her spine at the soft touch of his callused fingers. She put that down to embarrassment too. "You can be a lot like your cousin sometimes, you know that? Though you have a very hard swing my dear so, in the future, try to keep the beatings to a minimum."

Marian found smiling around this man all too easy. "I can't make any promises. Although," she said seriously, "I don't know your friend any more than you knew mine. Qunari or not, it was wrong of me to judge him; I… I'm sorry." She shifted uncomfortably more from the apology than the fact that he still held her hands.

Somewhere behind her, Varric gasped. "Hawke apologizing? This is definitely one for The Tales."

"Not. A. Word." Alistair glowered, releasing the Champion and Varric looked suitably thwarted. Hawke beamed smugly.

"Abusing the hierarchy again, are we sis?"

Hawke whirled around. "Bethany!"

She ran to embrace her sibling, not caring of the display they made next to her Templar escort. The chantry man bowed a little in Cullen's direction and left. Once introductions were done and the king remarked on how much like her sister the mage looked, _**except**__ for the eyes thank the Maker_, everyone filed out to the horses waiting on the other side of the great gates.

Alistair couldn't squash the want he felt to go with them and said as much before wishing them a safe journey, though in Cullen's case he said, "Nice armor. The Hawke crest suits you – though usually it's the woman who adopts the man's family insignia."

"Oh! This is just on loan," the Templar hurried to insist.

"I am glad to hear that," a familiar deep voice intoned from the wall they just passed.

Hawke felt her stomach flip. "Fenris?"

The elf was stood, leaning against the wall a few paces behind them but he shoved off and made a beeline for Marian. "Forgive me; I would go with you but… I just can't bring myself to set foot in Tevinter willingly." He offered a laugh that was silent and without humor. "Minrathous is a dangerous place and as usual my cowardice keeps me from being at your side when you may have need of me."

"I understand," she offered automatically before she shook her head a moment later. "Actually no, I don't. I'm trying to – Fenris, why are you here?"

The white haired head bowed and she heard a catch in his breathing. "I… wanted to… promise me you won't die?" His eyes finally came up to meet hers again, sorrow swimming in their emerald depths. "I find I can't bear the thought of living without you."

Marian knew she was boggling at him and glanced over at Isabela who was a little too preoccupied with insulting Duncan's "doggy stench". Fenris couldn't mean what she thought he meant could he? Then she noticed he was wearing her crest again for the first time in a year and sending dirty glares at the one on Cullen's breastplate. A year ago, she would have melted at these words; now they twisted her in knots. A year ago she knew exactly what she wanted but now she wasn't so sure.

"Look, we'll talk when I return, alright?"

Fenris nodded but instead of stepping back, he lunged forward and captured Marian's lips in a kiss. For a moment it was everything she yearned for and missed so dearly, spreading heat through her limbs and making her knees weak. An instant later, however, her thoughts spiraled around the 'why's and 'what if's and the memory of watching him walk away. She knew they had too much to discuss before she could just accept him back and this wasn't the right time.

She pulled away. "Not here, Fenris." Her face had become hot with emotion and her chest ached. "Not now… we'll talk later."

He nodded again sadly and turned, heading back into the city. She busied herself with her saddlebags so she wouldn't catch his gaze when he turned back to look one more time.

Alistair cleared his throat loudly, looking like he'd swallowed something foul. "Well, now that the goodbyes are out of the way… I'll see you all – Maker willing – in two week's time." He turned and headed back for Kirkwall's gate, muttering to himself. "Fool" was the only word anyone caught.

From his mount, Cullen watched the Champion pull herself back together by degrees as she went through her preparations blindly. He knew enough of what had happened between Hawke and the former slave to know that he wanted to bash the elf's head in. Hawke had been happy in her friendship with him and joyous when it seemed there would be more… until he ran out on her. That he did so after taking her honor made forgiving Fenris impossible for him. Showing up now, offering excuses for his own failings as though it was her responsibility to fix him, taking liberties he had no right to and putting_ that_ look back on her face again, made the Templar wish he could flog the man.

He sat, quietly simmering and contemplating how he might get away with it when Leliana smiled up at him. "The way he glared at your armor…" She tsked and shook her head.

The Templar looked down at the golden pattern adorning the front of said armor. "You think that's what his little display was about?"

"Maybe… maybe he felt threatened."

Cullen balked. "He knows I don't like him for what he's done to Hawke. He's also possessed her family crest for years. It's the least of what could threaten him."

Leliana's eyes twinkled. "Yes… but yours is much bigger." With a girlish chuckle she was off, bidding her farewells to the rest of the group.

Cullen shook his head and shifted his attention to Isabela. She looked almost… guilty. "So you and Fenris have parted?"

The Rivaini pretended to be startled. "What? Oh. Yeah... Despite my best efforts, he just couldn't get Hawke out of his system."

"And you didn't tell her?"

"I was going to but I wanted to give it more time. Marian has enough on her mind and I'm not used to being dumped."

Cullen snorted; "At least your desire to 'peruse Tevinter's finest wares' makes a little more sense now."

Isabela chuckled before getting serious. "Fenris has an unhealthy… need to be with Hawke. At first I thought it was just love. Now I'm not so sure. I didn't want to worry her over it until she would actually have time to. Balls….."

Varric called for a last check and everyone rifled through their bags to be certain they had everything they needed. When that was done, the party started out, winding through the forest that surrounded Kirkwall. Seven days to Minrathous: it was enough to draw a silent prayer out of them all.


	2. On The Road Again

For two days nothing happened. For two days they rode as if demons were on their heels, stopping only to rest the horses. For two sunrises and sunsets, their biggest troubles were: What's for dinner? Whose turn was it to get firewood? During those days, Hawke could almost imagine the past ten years hadn't happened; that Mother and Anders were still alive, Bethany wasn't in the Circle, and life hadn't scarred them with darkspawn infested Deeproads, would-be Qunari conquest, or an evil crazy-making lyrium idol. For those days, Marian could forget she was the Champion of Kirkwall. It was perfect and it wasn't meant to last.

Bethany's alarmed cry shattered the calm of their camp as they were clearing away the remnants of dinner. A dozen men in light armor strolled forward, demanding every possession but the clothing on their backs. Hawke saw red when one of them caressed Cullen's borrowed armor and asked if he thought they were about the same size. Varric's eyes skittered around the bandits, counting them. Nearly two-to-one odds weren't good, especially since three of them carried staffs.

The highwaymen watched them warily, the mages of the group almost glowing with banked mana, ready to strike. Isabela and Keran inched their hands closer to their weapons, Merrill's eyes gleamed a little too brightly and Bethany flexed her fingers, magic crackling faintly in her palms. They were all ready. Hawke knew she wouldn't be asking anything of them they couldn't give.

The man interested in Cullen's armor, leaned indecently close. "So am I gonna have to pry you out of this myself, pretty boy?"

Out of habit, the Templar looked at Hawke. She narrowed her eyes, hand tightening on her pommel. "For the love of Andraste, Cullen, let him have it," she growled, gaze flicking to the mages opposing them. She said her own plea to the Prophetess Andraste herself for him to understand.

For a thick, quiet moment nothing happened but after Cullen shoved at the man leaning on him, chaos erupted. Isabela's daggers went flying and Marian's sword was sweeping the man with the grip on her friend off his feet by the flat side of her blade to his midsection. Cullen, now free, followed the man's trajectory, sword rising as he spoke the cleansing rite. The mage bandits were casting, trying to take down the Kirkwall mages and so they noticed Cullen too late.

"TEMPLAR!" One of them shouted.

Spells and arrows were launched at him but the smiting fire he spun flared out splashing across the battlefield and the hostile magic closing in on him fizzled. Any arrows enchanted with runes sputtered and clattered to the ground. The rest were blown back by a gust of wind supplied by Merrill.

It was a beautiful opening volley and Varric said so as he rained arrows into the group of attackers. Isabela picked her way behind a warrior who had his sword raised to strike Merril. The elf-mage was flinging off spells at her assailant but his armor kept most of the damage to a minimum and she wouldn't be able to take him down in time. Just when he had the Dalish cornered, the pirate pounced, sinking her blades deep into the sides where the pieces of his armor tied together. The man howled but crumpled as the wound bled him out in a matter of seconds.

With four of their number taken down – all the mages and their biggest warrior – it was only a matter of time before the remaining eight fell too. Bethany started a blizzard that froze six of them. Varric shattered two with explosive bolts, whooping as he did so. Cullen let a roar loose when he smashed three with one arc of his blade and Isabela crowed to see a well-placed kick reduce a frozen combatant to a pile of glittering ice dust. The seventh, though not frozen was taken when Merrill petrified him and Bethany placed a crushing field of energy around him. The last man was really more of a boy who threw his weapon down when Hawke approached and fell to his knees. Now that the fighting was done, she could tell he was an elf.

"Please don't kill me!"

"We don't want to kill anyone," Varric shot back. "If you recall, it was you and your friends that started this."

"Look, I'm an urchin! I've no home and I didn't wanna be a slave so I ran away and took up with these guys because they said they'd protect me."

"And you believed him?" Keran asked.

The boy's face was streaked with tears now. "It was a chance! And it was better than the alternative. Please! I mean you no harm! I never swung my blade at any of you."

"It's true," Isabela said. "When I advanced on him he ran away and one of the others stepped in before I could get to him."

"He never attacked me," Merrill added.

Hawke looked at Bethany and Keran who shook their heads, then back at the boy. "What's your name?"

"I-I don't remember!" He wailed. "The Magister who was going to take me said I am Fen' harel but I don't know."

"The Dread Wolf?" Merrill giggled. "You're not at all like him."

The boy nearly crossed his eyes in confusion. "The what? Who is that?"

"Never mind," Hawke said. "I think, for the time being, you will have to choose a name you like for yourself; until your memories resurface. We have to have something to call you."

Everyone in her group started and a chorus of "WHAT?" assaulted her ears.

"You're letting him stay with us?" Isabela demanded.

"You can't be serious!" Cullen fumed.

Hawke sighed. "He has nowhere else to go. We can't just leave him here."

"Why not?" This was from Varric.

"He's a kid and you all said yourselves, he didn't attack us."

"Hawke," the dwarf began. "Where we're going, leaving him here would be a mercy."

"We're not going to drag him across Tevinter. We'll leave him at the nearest Inn and pay for his lodging." She turned to the boy. "If you wish to go with us to the Free Marches, we'll come for you on our way back. If you'd rather go your own way after we leave, that's your choice, but you don't have to make it now."

The kid nodded and Marian stood. "All right, since there are frozen bodies and pieces of bodies everywhere I'd rather move on before they become… fragrant."

"We should loot them first," the Rivainni said.

Hawke agreed so they set about stripping what they could from their attackers before striking out once more. The night was cool and clear and once they found a path they could follow, they made good time. Somewhere around midnight, they crested a hill where the forest receded and at the bottom of the slope a little village, nested by the trees came into view.

"Perfect," Hawke smiled. "We can stay here tonight."

Their new companion shifted nervously next to Hawke. "I'm not sure that's a good idea…" When that got everyone's attention, he stuttered out an explanation: "Th-the group I was with raided this village just earlier. I could be recognized."

"Lovely," the Champion drawled. "I guess we'll just have to give you a makeover."

The elf hung his head but a moment later, he raised it again, sudden interest in his eyes. "The others call you Hawke…"

"It's my family name."

"It suits you." The kid blushed but continued on, "I wanna be a Hawke too. O-or something like it, I mean. I know I can't be your family but I want a name that means something, that suits me – something… noble."

Varric eyed the boy for a moment. "You want a name like Hawke's? Well eagle sounds a little off… owl? Now that's too wise… Raven? Crow? Too black-hearted…"

"How about Phoenix?" Keran suggested.

Everyone looked at him askance and he shrugged. "He ran away from slavery to be his own person and left another life behind in both deed and memory. He's a resilient lad to have survived so long in Tevinter and not have gone mad and he seems to have a good heart."

"Plus, he's got the flaming red hair to go with it," Isabela added.

Hawke turned from her companions to the elf in front of her, with an expectant expression, watching him mull over the suggestions. "Phoenix… I like that one."

Hawke chuckled. "I figured as much."

The boy scowled. "It's not enough to simply like it, though. I have no family, no past. I want a name that means something but I don't want a name I can't live up to."

The Champion kneeled to look up at the kid's face and untied a dagger, sheath and all, from her belt, holding it out to him by the hilt. "Then you had better do everything in your power to make it true. Sometimes we must let our names define who we are. If you need to know that before you can choose a name, you will wait a very long time. Pick a name that means what it is you want to be and let it become you… Phoenix."

She smiled at him then, wide and bright. The elf took the blade, hands shaking as he tied it to his own belt. "Phoenix it is then," he said, voice growing steady and strong with each syllable. "My name is Phoenix."

Hawke stood and held out a hand for him to shake. "Nice to meet you, Phoenix. Now… about your clothes…"

oOo

Cullen couldn't stop thinking about what Hawke had done for the elf kid. He knew she was inspirational to others but he figured it was due to Varric's Tales. She worked hard and could sweat and bleed like anyone else. She didn't do anything that others couldn't if they applied themselves so it had always puzzled him how so many had fallen to her side – faithful companions that usually wouldn't ally themselves with anyone without a personal interest. Watching her and Phoenix, he could almost swear she was stripping off a piece of her own soul and giving it to him. She seemed to hand out the capacity for courage, strength and nobility to others like gold on Lowtown's streets. Phoenix had grown right before their eyes, back straightening and jaw setting, chest puffing out and head tilting high as she looked on. If he didn't know better, he'd swear she was entrancing him with magic.

Now he couldn't forget that Hawke wasn't as ordinary as he'd thought and he had to admit he felt pride creep into his heart at the thought of being in her group. It startled him to realize that. Later he would ask the dwarf about it. Since he was her first follower, no one would know better than him.

oOo

The women decided that playing up Phoenix's elven features, removing his armor and dressing him in a dark blue robe was their best bet of concealing who he was from the town. He looked a little too much like a mage for Cullen's taste but Hawke had said that was the idea. Bethany was to pretend he was her apprentice and the rest of them were their guard. Even Varric admitted it was a risky gamble but that they all had the look down pat if it was going to sell the townsfolk below.

Their story was that Bethany was an escaped mage, fleeing Kirkwall after the slaughter of mages that took place there, seeking refuge in the nearest mage-friendly country they knew of. Cullen didn't like that either. It was too close to the plan Anders had. His trust in Hawke was being tested with this, he knew. It wasn't until Varric reminded him that he and Keran alone could incapacitate any mage that crossed them – even Bethany – and he realized Hawke was trusting him too, that he relaxed. Marian showed no sign of being aware of his inner turmoil and when she turned toward him and reminded him not to give away that he was a Templar unless he absolutely _had_ to because he was their "secret weapon" he had to laugh a little to himself. Hawke was counting on him to have her back and thus all their backs – even her sister's. She wasn't stupid enough to have forgotten that his abilities could affect Bethany as well.

Hawke fell back to walk her horse at his side, concern etched in her features. "Are you alright?"

"Just a little personal crisis but I'm better now."

She thought for a moment before asking, "Is there anything I can do?"

He shook his head but before he could stop, found himself saying, "Sometimes it occurs to me that we work well together and it… worries me how much I find myself trusting you without question."

Marian smiled. "I could say the same of you. Trust is a two-way street, Cullen."

"I know. That was the realization I was just coming to. I figured out a long time ago that I trust you – sometimes despite my better judgment." At that, she laughed and he grinned a moment before continuing. "I guess I just never really stopped to consider that you trusted me as well." He looked to where Bethany rode next to Phoenix. "And what that trust might entail."

She followed his gaze and shook her head faintly. "I know this mission isn't easy for you, but Bethany is on our side. I suppose if she wanted to, she could escape, but I trust her with my life same as I trust you with hers."

Cullen eyed the Champion narrowly. "You wouldn't get in the way?"

Hawke's eyes went granite-like. "I wouldn't have to worry about it, because she'd never betray us." She forced herself to relax. "But… if something went wrong… I wouldn't stop you from doing what had to be done. It's why you're here. Bringing you along and tying your hands seems foolish, don't you think?"

She offered a strained smile but the Templar sagged, relief flushing his skin. "I'm sorry. I don't mean… but you're right – this mission does set my nerves on edge. I trust your sister – I do. I just can't help but think of worst-case scenarios, especially after Uldred. In a country that embraces his kind of magic… it doesn't make for a good night's sleep."

"If it helps, I could watch over you while you dream." Marian waggled her eyebrows at him, earning a laugh.

"Thank you for reaffirming why I never asked you to dinner."

"I wouldn't be me if I was your kind of woman, ser Templar; dainty and demure just isn't my style."

"Thank the Maker," Cullen retorted, grunting when a foot met his knee.

"Enough foreplay you two," Varric called out. "We're here."

Cullen didn't have time to blush as they were instantly in character. Bethany stepped forward to announce that she was Beth Cousland and that the elf beside her was her student. The men at the gates surveyed the rest of them but let them in a moment later.

"We don't want any trouble, magister," one of them said.

Bethany almost smiled and reassured them of her good intentions but Hawke stopped her, stepping between the mage and the man. "Then I suggest you stop harassing my lady," she bit out.

The younger Hawke reined her expression until it mirrored Marian's. "Speak for me again and I will gut you and bathe in your blood." She let loose a small tendril of lightning that caught the Champion's shoulder and down she went.

"Forgive me magister," Hawke groveled.

Bethany didn't speak but yanked her sister off her hands and knees and strode past the gate keepers. "If you don't want trouble," she said to the one that had spoken. "Keep your tongues better than my guards."

The men looked from Bethany to the others and blanched when they saw Cullen. The stormy expression was enough to convince them and they said nothing more. The Templar was just glad they mistook his aggression for posturing at them rather than the grip he was exercising on the desire to grab Bethany and shake her.

When they found the Inn and paid for rooms, settling in for the night, Varric could only think it couldn't have come too soon. Cullen hadn't lightened up any as they made their arrangements and when he took the opportunity of a closed door to calm the man down, the tall blond ignored him and left the room again as quickly as they'd entered and went straight to the room Hawke shared with her sister, Merrill and Isabela.

"Hot headed human," the dwarf muttered and strode after him.

He expected the raised voices he heard but it was Bethany and Marian arguing. Cullen was stopped outside their door, looking sick.

"_I can't do it sis!" _Bethany was crying.

"_You have to," _Marian said softly._ "A mage in Tevinter that isn't a magister will raise too many questions. They have to believe you belong here."_

"_But I don't! I should never have come. Other mages would have been happy to do this, to pretend to hurt you!"_

"_I trust no other mage but you. If this mission is to succeed, we must be able to trust one another."_

"_I saw the way Cullen looked at me… He looked like he wanted to smite me where I stood. Being your sister is all that kept him from killing me when I zapped you. Did I appear so monstrous Marian? You would tell me if I went too far, wouldn't you?"_ Bethany murmured almost too quiet to hear and the man in the hallway flinched as if struck_._

Varric heard Hawke gasp and could picture her reaching for her sibling's hands_. "He does trust you, Bethany. Please believe me when I say this because it __**is**__ true."_

"_But his face…!"_

"_This mission goes against everything he is, just as it does for you but we're all on the same side. He knows this. I trust you both completely. I'm sorry sister but we have to keep going until we've done what we came here to do."_

Bethany was sobbing quietly now_. "I don't know if I can…"_

"_You're a Hawke. You're a mage. And Varric can still call you Sunshine because no other name suits you better. You're the strongest person I know, Bethany. You __**can**__ do this."_

"_The thought of having to hurt you again for the sake of appearances turns my stomach…"_

"_I know. Just remember I will hold nothing you do to me here against you – short of killing me anyway. Trust your instincts and follow them. I will follow you in any ruse you have to play."_

"_I guess we can't back out now. I will try."_

"_That's my girl."_

Varric tugged on Cullen's gauntlet. "Come on, this is usually the part where the spies get caught because one of the room's occupants opens the door. Let's go."

The Templar allowed the dwarf to steer him back to the room they shared with Phoenix and Keran and he sat dazedly on his bed for a few moments, turning over everything he'd heard. He owed Bethany an apology. With that in mind, he stripped his armor and left his sword leaning against the wall despite how a voice in the back of his head screamed how wrong it felt.

Varric watched him go and then turned to the other Templar. "You don't talk much do you?"

"Only when lost urchins need naming, apparently. Besides you talk enough for all of us."

"Ouch!" Varric laughed. "I have a feeling you'll do well in our group, Keran. Now I just need to think of a good nickname for you."

oOo

Cullen almost tripped over Isabela when he rounded the corner to the girls' room and the pirate advanced on him until he was leaning on the hallway.

"I need to know if you're planning to pursue Hawke."

"I don't think it's any of your business but no." He leveled a glare at her.

"Are you sure?" She raised an eyebrow. "Because you two seem awfully chummy lately and if Fenris has no chance of getting her back I'd like to know."

"Marian's like a sister to me."

"Oh? It's _Marian_ now?"

Gritting his teeth, Cullen gently took her shoulders and manhandled her out of his personal space. "Look… once, a long time ago, maybe I did have intentions toward her but we're too different. She's gorgeous – yes – but not the kind of woman I prefer. If I have any intentions of getting between her and the elf, it's because, as her friend, I think she deserves better. King Alistair on the other hand… you might want to worry about his intentions more than mine."

Isabela studied him for a moment before a giggle escaped her. "He does seem rather besotted doesn't he?"

Cullen smiled. "That he does."

"Who does what?" Hawke demanded, Bethany beside her.

Both of her companions jumped, not having heard the door or their footsteps.

"W-we were just discussing the new king," Cullen said.

"He just doesn't seem like the kingly type," Isabela purred.

It was plausible enough and Hawke let any suspicions she might have had go. "He seems to have quite the adjustment ahead of him," she agreed. "So what did you need?"

Cullen started. "I uh… would like to speak with Bethany, if I may."

"Me?" The younger woman asked. "What for?"

"Um…"

"Hawke, you and I need to talk too," the Rivainni said and led the warrior away.

Bethany appraised the Templar's appearance. The absence of his sword didn't go unnoticed and she slowly fell into step beside him. If Marian could trust him, so could she.

oOo

The following morning Varric took a mental survey of his friends' spirits and declared the night at the Inn a success. Even Bethany was more chipper than usual and that was saying something because nothing was more chipper than Sunshine.

"Good morning!" Merrill nearly danced down the stairs as she made her way to their tables. Phoenix trailed behind her looking sheepish.

"Well, well, well how do you like that?" Hawke drawled with a dirty gleam in her eyes. Isabela chuckled.

"For someone who has no memory of who he is or what experiences he may or may not have had, he sure knows how to handle the ladies," Varric chortled.

Isabela waited until the elves were seated and settled, Merrill tucking into a plate of fruit before pouncing. "You know, most girls wait until they know a man's_ real_ name before jumping his bones."

The mage blushed but raised her chin defiantly. "I know his name. It's Phoenix."

"Ah… yes. How silly of me to forget…"

"Oh you're not silly," Merril said, oblivious to the pirate's sarcasm. "I was trying to help him remember. You said sex with Hawke had brought back flashes for Fenris so I thought maybe it would work for Phoenix."

Hawke made a strangled sound and everyone gaped at the elf for a moment but soon all eyes were on Isabela who was trying valiantly to hide behind her glass of water. It didn't take long for Hawke's dangerously blank expression to get to her and she set her water down with a sigh.

"Look, Fenris told me about why he left and I might have had a few too many and maybe said something to Merrill the night he dumped me. But that was it, I swear!"

Hawke surveyed the faces of all her companions and found them to be of varying degrees of pity before glaring at the mage elf. "And now the whole table knows… lovely."

"I'm sorry," Isabela called out as her friend stood and walked out of the Inn.

"Now you've done it," Bethany shot in the Rivainni's direction before chasing after her sister.

Varric watched the younger Hawke go and shook his head. "You know the morning was going so well..."

"She'll bounce back," Cullen offered. "Hawke always does."

Varric eyed him critically. "Now I know something's wrong. You're being an optimist. I find it frightening."

"You do seem to be in good humor, ser," Keran said, speaking for the first time since they sat down.

The Templar shrugged, making his armor whisper across the table. "I slept well and it's a good day. Well so far; it's still early."

"Now that sounds more like you," Varric returned.

"No," Isabela cut in. "It's something else. If I didn't know better, I'd swear you'd had company last night."

Both Keran and Varric spluttered. "I think I would have noticed," Varric shot back.

"Our vows prohibit relations with any woman not our wives," Keran added.

"I _said_ 'if I didn't know better'. Maker forbid a Templar has an impulse to have fun." The pirate rolled her eyes and reached for a piece of bacon.

"I made my apology to Bethany and it went over well," Cullen said.

"What could you have to apologize for?" This came from Varric.

"That is between us," the Templar said primly and nibbled on a biscuit, signaling the end of the conversation.


	3. Bearer Of Bad News

Phoenix dithered nervously in the men's bedroom as considered the chance at freedom that was staring at him. The Templar had a generous coin purse and it was currently left unattended on his bed while the man made use of the washroom next door. With the amount of coin it held, he could set himself up for months and not have to worry about earning his keep…

Taking his chances with stolen coin sounded a damn sight better than living off of others. Resolved, he stood and grabbed the pouch and made to tie it to his belt but his hand bumped the dagger Hawke had given him and he stared at it. Such a fine weapon and she had just given it to him mere hours after a group he'd been a part of had tried to kill her and her friends_. "Make yourself worthy…"_

Phoenix didn't think this was what she had in mind with those words. They were the first people ever to treat him with respect and kindness. Not to mention he was safer traveling with them. The weight of the pouch suddenly seemed like that of an anchor and he dropped it.

"No…" he muttered, backing away from the bed. "I am Phoenix." He scrambled out of the room to see if Varric was willing to educate him about his new acquaintances.

The door adjoining the washroom clicked and the hazel eyes watching through the keyhole crinkled in a silent smile. Cullen opened the door and retrieved his belongings so he could make himself ready for the day but not before stopping to leave a surprise on the elf's pack. _The wonders of Hawke never cease_, he thought with a grin.

oOo

As a Templar, Keran was expected to live a life of poverty. As a man, he wanted to be able to provide for his family. He knew the value of coin and now that the Champion had disseminated some of their party's funds to him, he was star-struck with how rich he felt. He had more coin on his person than he'd made in all his years as a Templar combined. The woman's generosity was truly remarkable. Or maybe she was so wealthy that the twenty gold sovereigns she'd given him meant little to her. To be so rich! It was a heady thought.

Hawke told him to find better armor, preferably enchanted against magic, so he was browsing the armor smith's finished wares when he thought of Macha. He found a suit of silverite that fit well enough and though the merchant charged him ten sovereigns for it, he knew he'd gotten it cheaper than another customer who'd been interested in it.

When he asked about the discrepancy, the man answered baldly: "You think me a fool? I know if I even tried to charge you fair price, that magister of yours would have my heart for lunch." The man scurried away from him, fear lining his face and yelled over his shoulder, "Now begone with you!"

The young Templar felt as though he'd been slapped and rolled in mud for good measure. Being presumed in the company of a maleficarum – no matter how purposeful the deception – made him feel sick. He stumbled away, lost in thought all the way back to the room.

After he changed his armor, he checked his pouch and tucked three of his remaining ten sovereigns into a hidden pocket on his belt. He felt a twinge of guilt about keeping the money from Hawke but his sister needed it more than the Champion did.

oOo

"Oooh! How pretty!"

Hawke whipped around to see Merrill behind her and hurried to close the book she'd been drawing in. "If I wanted others to see it, I'd share," she said archly.

The elf was nothing if not persistent and earnest. "But it's a lovely picture! You have a talent for it."

For a moment Hawke wanted to allow the smile that such praise invoked, to ask another's opinion about her hobby but the memory of what Merrill was and who she'd sided with during the rite of annulment came back to her and she hardened once more against the mage and scowled.

"You'll never forgive me, will you?" Merrill asked, watching her sadly. "I only did what I thought was right. You once told Anders that no one can know the outcome of their actions. They can only make them with a true heart. Were those just words to you?"

Hawke frowned. "I do not offer words simply for the benefit of speaking them."

"Is it because of who I am then? Because I'm Dalish? A mage? Because I use blood magic?"

"Now that is ridiculous and you know it," Hawke growled. "You _choose_ to use blood magic. It's not who you are – just like you chose to stand by _him_ when he murdered innocents… You are the very thing Templars were made to stop."

"I believe in what he wanted for mages. I would never have done what he did –"

"Blood mages are capable of anything!" Marian nearly spat the sentence out.

Merrill gasped, hurt twisting her features. "I have never… used blood magic against a person's mind, Hawke. I've never made a deal with demons. And I've never, nor will I ever, use another's blood but my own. Any magic can be used for evil. Blood magic is simply a more powerful kind of magic and in the wrong hands it's terrible."

"Your hands are the right hands; is that what you expect me to think?"

Merrill's voice wavered, desperate for Marian to see. "I wish – I'm not a monster Hawke! You're my friend and I want your forgiveness; for you to trust me again. I know it's not an easy thing but I wish you would try."

Marian's features twisted nastily. If she were truthful with herself, she still trusted the Dalish elf. She never stopped and it was herself she couldn't forgive as much as the mage for making her accept something she'd been raised to fear and loathe. "I will forgive you one day Merrill," Hawke sighed and lay back in the grass, "But not today."

The elf huffed and dropped to the ground and lay opposite the Champion so their heads were ear to ear. "It seems so silly now. I came looking for you to apologize about breakfast."

Marian agreed with the sentiment: it was silly. "I blame Isabela for that and by extension myself, not you."

"Oh. That's good I suppose."

Hawke sighed again and sat up. "We should get going. We're still a long way from Minrathous." She stood and held out a hand for Merrill and hauled her to her feet. She could admit in the privacy of her own mind that she felt better when she looked at the mage than she had in months.

oOo

Brooding was something he knew how to do well. Right about now he'd be at the tavern in Lowtown well onto washing his thoughts away. Today though, he was a king… he was a king and he never wanted to be king. The panic he'd been battling for the past three days rose into his throat again and he felt the familiar urge to curl into a ball and mumble incoherently. Or run. Running sounded good. It's not like Kirkwall _needed _him… They had – well no one came to mind beside Hawke and she wasn't here.

He slumped against a window. Kirkwall had no one. He looked down at the people of Hightown – _his_ people. Hawke obviously felt they were worth saving because she kept doing it. He sighed. He knew he couldn't leave anyone to suffer if there was something he could do about it. It just wasn't in him. He'd been prepared once to accept a Templar's duties and his only comfort had been the thought that he could save mages and people from demons. He had shouldered his Grey Warden destiny gladly so that he could save Ferelden from the Blight. He couldn't just leave Kirkwall either. He just wished the one person who could help him in the coming days wasn't traipsing across the Imperium.

He heard Leliana shuffle into the room, making her steps purposely loud enough so she wouldn't startle him. "You know I have to ask what she sees in Kirkwall. She could have gone back home to Ferelden. Why didn't she?"

Behind him the Orlesian shrugged before she remembered he couldn't see the gesture. "Perhaps she came to love her new home as much as Ferelden. Her family was also here."

"Right…" He turned slowly, considering. "Now all that's left is Bethany and she's in the circle. Can't say Kirkwall's been kind to her but she stays…"

"She has friends here."

"Do you really think that's enough though? Her friends, a mabari and a big empty house full of memories?"

"Sometimes it has to be."

"When I think of everything she's done and all she's lost, I feel like I know her… If she could make it work here, then I can too, right?"

"Of course you can," Leliana smiled encouragingly and waited for him to continue but the king seemed content for the moment. There was something she needed to know, however.

"Alistair why did you run away to Kirkwall? I never would have expected that from you." Leliana sat in a chair across from his desk and propped her chin in her hands and watched her friend as he winced.

"When you say it like that, it sounds so… petty," he grouched as he flopped into the chair next to her.

The bard gave him a sad look. "I can't imagine you simply wanted to drown your sorrows and yet according to many who frequent the Hanged Man, you are rather famous for your drunken rants."

"Don't remind me," Alistair groaned. Now that he was king, he ran the risk of being recognized and ridiculed. The Divine really couldn't have put him in a more embarrassing position.

"Look at me, Alistair," Leliana commanded.

He did. He saw her – really saw her – and it was apparent she was older. Her eyes were still kind but less carefree and there were faint lines around her mouth. She took his hand and squeezed.

"I know things didn't work out the way you think they should have but Aeryn thought it was for the best."

"I know what she thought," he growled. "I just… I can't believe after everything, that she let Loghain live. I don't care about the crown – Anora can have it – but the Grey Wardens were my home and I can't bring myself to go back as long as he's there."

"You can't have it all your way, Alistair – you must know this." Leliana was being as gentle as she could but when he fixed her with a sour look, she spelled it out for him. "If Anora was to remain queen, letting him join the Wardens ensured that they would have the support and respect they deserve. Surely you can see the merit in that? Loghain's actions were driven by a belief that the Blight wasn't real and was only a cover for an Orlesian invasion. Once he became one of you, he learned how wrong he was and, being the patriot he is, it haunts him now. It will for the rest of his days. Does that not seem like punishment?"

"He lives while others paid the price for his prejudice. I see no justice in that."

"Sometimes death is too swift, too merciful. He would have welcomed it. You do not like that he lives. It is something you have in common."

"Why are you telling me this?" He was pleading a little bit now.

"As king you must put aside your feelings for the greater good of your people."

He eyed her and pulled his hand back. "Okaaaay… I get that. But why bring up Loghain now?"

"Because he's been appointed the Warden Commander of Ferelden and he'll be here tomorrow."


	4. Truces

**Chapter Four**

Loghain stormed through the docks when he arrived in Kirkwall, making the ship's gang plank rattle as he hit it at a near run and left his dumpling of an assistant to totter after him. The docks and then Lowtown were consumed by the Ferelden General's long legs in record time while the squat man in yellow huffed and puffed behind him.

"This… city… is so bland! How can…?"

Loghain rounded on the wet-faced man and sneered, producing a rolled parchment. "I make it a point to familiarize myself with my surroundings." He set the item in short man's hand and turned away, resuming his earlier pace. "I want that returned to me in absolutely perfect condition, Narvil!" Loghain called over his shoulder before rounding a corner and disappearing from sight.

Wiping his brow with a sleeve, Narvil unrolled a picturesque image of Kirkwall. Everything of note in the sprawling city was helpfully labeled; even vendors of all manner of wares were listed and the man instantly decided he needed to stop by the potions shop nearby for a rejuvenating elixir. Before he could reverse his path, however, Loghain reappeared around the corner and shouted.

"And do try not to sweat on it!"

oOo

Alistair wasn't a man of many talents but what he could do, he was amazingly good at. Unfortunately his ability to whine incessantly was in perfect form. When he launched his ninth complaint in the past hour, Leliana half-heartedly considered slipping something in his tea to swell his tongue.

"I can't believe they made him Warden Commander! Just when I thought they couldn't insult the Grey Wardens any further…"

She was actually glad the Keep's doors swung open then, admitting their guest and sank into a Ferelden bow. "My lord, Teryn, your journey has been uneventful I trust?"

Loghain's steel colored eyes narrowed, at the Orlesian but she greeted him properly enough so he kept his tongue about it for now. "It would have been less eventful were it not for the "attaché" –one of your words I'm sure – that Anora sent me off with. Narvil couldn't find his ass if a mabari shoved his nose in it!"

Leliana quietly giggled, quite used to the more vulgar humors of men. Alistair felt the faintest, far away twitch somewhere on his face but was too busy scowling at the older man to notice. "So this… assistant," he said slowly with a narrow look at Loghain. "You abandoned him too?"

Loghain scoffed, not taking the bait. "I couldn't get rid of him fast enough."

Alistair went rigid and ground out. "Why are you here?"

"If you really have to ask me that," Loghain drawled. "We'll need a far less public venue for this discussion." The general strode around the king and marched for the stairs, stopping only to ask a guardsman where the King's office was in gruff tones.

Leliana's mind raced, trying to deduce Loghain's meaning and she tugged on Alistair's arm now. "Come on!"

Alistair dug his heels in and wove his arms across his chest. "I'm not putting up with him unless I absolutely have to."

He squirmed when the bard tilted her head back, managing to look down at him despite being shorter. "Whatever you may think of him, Loghain wouldn't have come here without a _very_ good reason," she said flatly and pivoted to follow Loghain.

"I hate it when you make sense."

oOo

"So what do you think?" Varric asked across the gap between the trees keeping them from view.

Hawke scowled, "Highwaymen."

Varric nodded and Isabela groaned. "Guess it doesn't take long for word of a magister with a heavy coin purse to get around the Imperium."

"And already the local idiots have come out to play," Varric snickered.

Marian swore under her breath. "That's a lot of idiots."

"I bet at least half of them are fodder for whoever set this up," Isabela offered. "Poor sods were probably told you have five times the coin you really do to get them to sign on."

"A lot of really stupid idiots then," Hawke sighed in frustration. "This is exactly the kind of thing we don't have time for!"

"I have an idea… but you're not going to like it."

Isabela rarely got so serious and it made the Champion's stomach churn. When they got back and explained the plan, the others didn't care for it either.

"Y-you're going to pose as whores?" Cullen was aghast.

"See? I told you, you wouldn't like it," the pirate retorted.

"What exactly are we using this ruse to accomplish?" Hawke demanded.

Isabela produced two vials, one a viscous green color. "A taste of Serpent's Kiss should dispatch them nicely. One kiss and they're off to meet the Maker." Bethany gave a cry of alarm and the Templars recoiled as if struck.

"Now I know you've gone mad!" Cullen blurted.

"Do you have a better idea?" The pirate challenged.

When he didn't answer, she continued. "We don't have time to fight our way through and they have four times our number – that we've seen. More could be hiding in the surrounding forest and we can't go around because of the pass."

"And we can't be caught or robbed or worse," Marian added, nearly resigned to the idea.

Cullen scowled at her. "But killing men this way Hawke? From the shadows like a snake?"

Marian grimaced but steeled herself and said "You forget… I stabbed Anders in the back."

Cullen lowered his head and mumbled, "This isn't the same and you know it."

"Then what do we do?"

"Merrill could help!" Phoenix declared. "She's a blood mage, blood mages can control others – that'd even the odds!"

At first, everyone stared at the redheaded elf but a moment later they looked at the Dalish who was gawking at Phoenix as though someone had killed her favorite plant. A moment later she shook her head and began backing away from them, eyes still fixed in horror at Phoenix.

"Would it work, kitten?" Isabela asked hopefully.

Cullen glared at the elves, resolved to stomp back to Kirkwall that very afternoon if Hawke even considered this insane idea. For a brief moment he was certain she was.

"Merrill?" The Champion said softly. "Are you alright?"

But Merrill wasn't hearing her, instead glancing back and forth between Phoenix and Isabela, tears trickling over her lashes. "How could you ask me that? Why would you think I would?"

"But you have blood magic," Phoenix insisted, confusion knitting his brow. "If you don't know how-"

"Of course I don't know how!" Merrill snapped. "I would never…!" She glanced at Hawke then. "I won't!" She dashed off into the trees, leaving everyone to wonder what just happened.

"Now you've done it," Bethany said reprovingly and took off after the elf.

Isabela sighed. "So… what was that about?"

"Rivaini," Varric started, "You and Firetop here just accused Daisy of regularly enslaving people's minds."

"I didn't say she does it."

"You just assumed that she could because she's a blood mage," Hawke snarled.

"Can't they?" Phoenix asked, clearly not following along.

"Not without practice," Cullen added, still sagging with relief that they wouldn't be using blood magic on anyone that day.

Isabela's eyes went wide. "Shit!" She took off after Merrill and Bethany, cursing herself as she went.

Keran spoke for the first time since they got back to camp, still confused. "A blood mage who doesn't control people? You must be joking."

Marian shrugged. "The only threat Merrill's blood magic has ever posed, is as a power source for normal casts, the same as lyrium does for normal mages. I've never known her to use blood spells against anyone, now that I think about it."

"If that's true, it makes her one of a kind," Cullen said, a little awestruck at the thought.

Isabela reappeared, looking sick and bright eyed but strode over to Hawke and handed her the vial of poison. "Looks like we're back to plan A." Her voice shook a little but she busied herself with unsealing the curative so everyone let her be.

Hawke sighed and turned the glass bottle in her hand over. "Is it possible to dilute the poison so it'll only weaken those men Isabela?"

"Hawke!" the Rivaini whined. "If we want to be sure they can't cause trouble for us, we have to kill them. Besides they deserve it. You don't lie around in wait for a group of people, maleficarum or not, if you're a good person."

"I can't kill them because they _might _be bad people." Hawke shook her head, resolute. "I won't."

Isabela grumbled under her breath before resigning to doing this her friend's way. "We can't just add water – that'd ruin it. Elfroot potion would heal any damage caused by the potion. We have to be careful though: too much and the poison won't incapacitate them at all."

"Use too little and they still die," Varric added.

"I'm no apothecary," the pirate groused. "We'll just have to wing it and hope for the best."

"Then it'll have to do." Marian didn't look at Cullen right away but he merely nodded and offered a small encouraging smile when she finally met his gaze. She returned it, before retreating behind a rock formation on the clearing's far end to remove the armor she wore.

Merrill returned, arm in arm with Bethany, looking shaken and sat silently to wait for the plan to play out.

They didn't have any finery to pull of being high class whores so they opted for the country bumpkin look instead. Hawke borrowed one of Bethany's shifts that usually went under her mage robes and loosely plaited her hair so tendrils escaped from random points and trailed around her face in the breeze.

Bethany blushed on her sister's behalf when she and Isabela emerged. The color of Hawke's hip seeped through the thin material when she bent to work at something on her calf, which made being a gentleman for the males of their camp difficult. The display caused Keran to gulp audibly next to Cullen and the older warrior smiled knowingly.

"So! What do you think?" Isabela asked as she sauntered closer. She wore a dark blue garment that ended halfway down her thighs. The kerchief she usually had on her head was tied around a stocking covered knee and her dark waves of hair were piled messily atop her head.

Varric leered openly and Keran's composure fell apart, but Cullen, unimpressed, scowled.

"Is that my shirt?"

Isabela looked down at herself and grinned. "Oh yes! I find that nothing says "whore" like "just got shagged". And nothing says "just got shagged" like a woman wearing a man's shirt."

Cullen and Merrill were the only ones who didn't smile. "How can a man's shirt say all that?" The Dalish tattoos distorted with a scowl.

Now Cullen did smile, though a bit ruefully. "Just be careful. I would prefer if my shirt didn't live up to that assumption."

"You know I can't promise anything," Isabela said with a smirk.

"'Yes, go on Isabela! Have fun in my shirt!' That's what you should have said if you really wanted to keep it safe, Cullen." Hawke finally rejoined their group walking stiffly.

Once the laughter ebbed, Bethany asked her about it and the older Hawke lifted her skirt enough to reveal the long dagger she'd strapped to her leg.

"That's my dagger!" Isabela hissed.

Hawke grinned at the pirate. "My sword is too big to hide and I feel naked without a weapon."

"You sure it's not because you nearly are?" Cullen said, pointedly gazing over the length of her form. He didn't bother trying to hide his smugness when she actually blushed.

"Come on Champion, let's get out of here." Isabela tugged her away, suddenly solemn and glanced at Merrill a final time before they disappeared on the wooded path.

The walk to the men waiting on the path wasn't long and the two women passed the time gossiping about the males of their party. Well, Isabela did most of the gossiping while Hawke snickered at her. The pirate simply refused to wrap her mind around the idea that the Champion of Kirkwall and the newly minted Knight Commander could be close friends and not be sleeping together.

"We're just not, Isabela!" Hawke said again and darted around the bend and hopped on a rock.

Isabela copied her almost daintily. "Hey I'm not alone in this! Even your sister wonders if there's something going on."

"Well there isn't. There never can be." There was a downed tree on the path and Hawke sauntered onto it and took it across the path, hopping down at the far end.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Isabela demanded as she followed.

Hawke shrugged. "The night Aveline brought me that bottle of Ferelden spirits, Cullen was there checking up on me because of Meredith. I invited him in for a drink and we talked for a while about Ferelden and our lives there. He spoke of my cousin, rather frequently and while he had nothing but good things to say about her, I felt like he was comparing us. Sometimes, he'd get this look, like he was seeing me for the first time and then he'd bring her up again." Hawke sighed and lowered her head, poking her toes at the grass. "I don't know if we could have had something, Izzy. We have more chemistry when I'm reminding him of her, than when I'm not."

Isabela grimaced. "Ouch. I'm sorry Hawke. There are plenty of fish in the sea and no shortage of men to bend over and drag them out; might as well enjoy the view."

An honest belly laugh erupted out of Hawke and she slung an arm around the Rivaini as they approached another turn. "Never change, Izzy."

"Well, well," said a gruff voice. Both women looked up to see one of the highwaymen, oily and filthy in dirty rough-shod leathers, wandering in their direction and instantly went into character, blushing and giggling. "What have we here?" the man asked as he reached them.

"Just headed back home after a day at the tavern, ser," Isabela said coyly.

Hawke tried not to be too surprised at the ease the pirate had in leading the man on. "Our mum would have our hides if we were late for supper," she said with a giggle.

"Is that right?" The man fingered the sleeve on Marian's shift, gaze lingering on the nipples poking into the thin fabric. "And why would two lovelies such as you be at a tavern alone?" Isabela giggled as if she had a secret no one else knew and tried to shove her cleavage through Cullen's shirt a little more in an effort to gain the man's attention. He was a little too focused on Hawke.

"I must say, you are most fetching," the man continued. He spotted the little pouch Hawke had on her belt and fondled it, smiling when he heard the clink of coins. "Ahhh, such a pretty little strumpet," he cooed, one hand traveling down over Hawke's collarbone now. "Far too pretty to be a lowly common whore, you should be in the royal court being swooned over by every noble."

Marian gulped as a dirty palm cupped her left breast. "We do what we can." Bile rose in her throat at her body's reaction yet she couldn't bring herself to shove him off. A fog had settled over her brain and she couldn't think straight. She turned her head away to get a breath of fresh air but the man took this as an invitation to nuzzle her neck and slipped an arm around her waist.

"I'm sure you do whatever it takes, don't you? I can double the coin in your purse if you're willing to risk your mother's wrath…"

"And what about me?" Isabela demanded, still scrambling to think of a way to extricate Hawke and not blow their ruse apart.

"Silence!" The man hissed.

Instantly, the pirate snapped her mouth closed and crumpled to the ground, expression strained.

His attention went back to Hawke's unfocused gaze. If only she could think!

"Now where were we? Ah yes! Your payment." He began to walk, steering her closer to where his fellows waited on the path and to Hawke's terror, she followed stiffly along.

Isabela watched them go, unable to move or scream until they were well out of sight and several minutes ahead. When she was free, she tore off at a dead run back to Cullen and the others, gut twisting acidly. She knew no matter how quick she was it would be too late for Hawke. Even if they saved her life, the damage would be done.

She heard a shout and she pushed herself even harder around a bend. Armored arms suddenly clamped around her and she nearly went down fighting to get out of her assailant's grip but Varric's voice stilled her struggles.

"It's us, Rivaini!"

She blinked hard to clear away the moisture in her eyes and her friends came into focus. Keran released her and took off running up the path and she just made out the sight of Cullen, Bethany and Merrill skidding around the next turn.

"Come on!" She cried frantically and took off again back in the direction she'd come from, praying they wouldn't be too late.

Cullen couldn't be more glad of his borrowed armor as he ran – really ran – to reach Hawke. Merrill kept saying what they were all thinking, making him wish she were mute and Bethany cast a rejuvenation spell at Keran who strove to catch up. The Knight Commander murmured the words of Righteous Smite between pants to be sure he had it right, not daring to consider what he might see when he reached Marian.

The last turn straightened out and he wasn't surprised. The sight of Hawke, surrounded by men and embraced by the one whispering words of coercion in her ear burned painfully into his mind and he roared with fury. Light bloomed everywhere as the Smite spread across the field, staggering those too far away to get the brunt of it. Those who did, Hawke and her captor among them, went down and didn't get back up. The sight of Cullen's will incapacitating so many at once frightened the rest of the highwaymen into retreating and they tried funneling into the gap of the rocky pass. It made picking them off with magic and arrows that much easier.

"Well…" Isabela trailed off, searching for something witty to say but after a moment, she collapsed to her knees and blurted, "I'm so sorry Hawke!"

Cullen sat on the ground too and gingerly reached for Marian who lay curled tightly into herself, face a faraway mask. He didn't bother trying to straighten her out but pulled her bodily into his lap and smoothed his hand down her tense back.

Varric and Keran surveyed the clearing for stragglers silently. No one spoke for several moments until Bethany stepped forward and draped a robe over her sister's form. "Sis, did he…?" Marian shook her head, mind still reeling from how close it had been for her. "I should still check you for any ill effects of the blood magic."

When Cullen tightened his grip instinctively and leaned away, Bethany raised her hands in supplication. "She can stay there. I just need to-"

"Use more magic on her?" he snarled dangerously. "After what almost happened to her?"

"It's alright Cullen," Hawke said softly. "She's my sister."

After a moment, he yielded but he watched the glow of magic and Hawke's reaction intently the entire time. When Bethany finished, she pronounced that her sister had sustained only minor scratches and bruises from the ordeal and handed out a healing potion but Hawke waved it away.

"Save it. I think that smite did more damage." She smiled for Cullen's benefit but he simply nodded curtly. "I'm exhausted but I'll be fine, Bethany; just a bit shaken. If you hadn't come…"

The woman in his arms shivered and Cullen squeezed her protectively which earned him a wavering smile. "Ugh!" she growled suddenly rising but keeping the robe clutched to her. "How could I have been so stupid? Getting caught by a blood mage!"

"It wasn't your fault," Isabela instantly insisted.

Hawke scowled. "It wasn't yours either, Izzy. Get that through your head right now. You couldn't have known any of them were mages, let alone blood mages, none of us knew."

"But it was my plan that put you in danger." Isabela shook her head as if trying to physically shake off her friend's forgiveness.

"I'm in danger all the time – usually by my own foolishness – and it was a good plan. I don't blame you for this. Besides, even though our ruse didn't work the way we intended, the result was the same."

Cullen 'harrumphed' at that and Hawke smirked at him but he levered himself off the ground without voicing his opinion.

The pirate shook her head. "I will never understand you, Hawke. You really are kind of mad, you know that?"

The mood around them lifted considerably as they all shared a laugh but Isabela was the first to become serious again and looked at Cullen. "How did you know? I had only just gotten free of the hold that weasel placed on me when you came along."

"It was Merrill," he said.

When everyone looked expectantly at her, the elf stammered. "I felt it when he used his magic."

"Because you use blood magic too?" Hawke asked.

Merrill nodded. "I'm more sensitive to it I guess. I told the others and we went up the path after you."

Hawke stared disbelieving at Cullen. "You took her at her word?"

He nodded. "You asked me to trust your judgment in trusting her."

Tears welled up in Marian's cobalt gaze. If Cullen had chosen to dismiss Merrill… She cradled his face in her hands, leaned in and kissed him soundly before wrapping her arms around his neck. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear.

A ruby shade colored his face and he awkwardly patted the Champion's back. "You're welcome, Marian."

She turned her attention on Merrill then and embraced her. Words failed her so she squeezed the mage as hard as she could.

"Does this mean you forgive me, Hawke?"

Marian laughed. "I know it seems cheap to say so right after you saved my life, but yes, Merrill. I forgive you."

The Dalish laughed and returned the hug. "I'm so glad!"

oOo

This time, when they raided their enemies, every throat was slit for good measure. When they got back to their camp and equipment, Hawke tried to don her armor but nearly toppled over when its weight settled on her shoulders, prompting Bethany to insist she travel in her breeches and shirt.

"But I have to have my armor," Hawke complained.

"You're still too drained," Bethany said patiently.

"Here," Cullen said and handed over his Chantry robe before Bethany could toss the mage robe at her again. "It's enchanted to provide some physical protection."

"I thought we agreed it was a Bad Idea to wear anything that screams "Templar!" out in the open here?" Varric said.

Cullen shrugged. "Turned inside out, it's just a red robe."

Hawke immediately reversed the garment and slid her arms into it, cinching it closed with a sigh. Though it looked ridiculous on her, several inches of it swept the ground and the sleeves swallowed her hands, she smiled brightly and twirled like a girl in a new dress.

"If we're done playing dress up," Varric snarked, "We have to go. The day's not getting any younger."

Hawke agreed and set out back to the pass. "We've already lost some time."

"But not as much as we could have," Merrill said cheerfully. "Cullen should get furious more often."

oOo

The rest of the day's journey went rather well. There was another skirmish, bandits on the well-traveled path who thought to try and relieve them of their coins and other valuables but they met the same end as the previous groups. Varric didn't exactly pray but he _fervently_ thanked whoever was listening that there were no more mages to Smite or strays to take pity on.

Every time the topic of stopping to make camp arose, Marian shot it down and drove her horse ahead of them so they had to catch up. When Varric confronted her - _You want to run yourself into the ground, fine, but I'm not going to let you run Daisy and Sunshine into it with you_ – that she finally relented to her companions' collective relief.

That night, they made camp not far from a little lake and all the women chatted happily amongst themselves about bathing and swimming. Cullen applied himself to building and stoking a fire while Keran and Varric pitched tents. The wood was a little damp so he bent over the erratic flames, fanning and feeding them and didn't see Merrill until she was standing over him, cradling a bulging bundle.

"I collected these from the bandits we fought earlier," the elf said next to his head.

The Templar jumped back with a surprised shout and almost toppled off his feet. He stood up, brushing imaginary dirt off of his pants angrily.

"Oh! Sorry," she flushed and made an inspection of him. "You're not hurt are you?"

The childlike concern and the huge disarming green eyes caught Cullen off guard. The thought that she was nothing like Uldred came to him before he could stop it but he shoved it away.

"I'm alright, thank you. What have you got there?" He focused on the elf's cargo and pulled up a flap to find vegetables and herbs.

"I thought maybe we could have a stew for dinner. I love a good stew."

"You took this from the bandits? We were too busy looking for potions and money; I don't think anyone thought to search them for food."

Merrill shifted nervously on her feet. "It's not like they'll need it anymore and it'd be a shame for such lovely carrots and potatoes to go to waste so I thought we could use them."

Cullen chuckled before a small white bulb caught his eye in the back of the bag. "Is that… garlic?" He lifted the clove out and studied it.

"Oh yes! And there's an onion too." Merrill freed a hand and stuck it in the bag, producing the fat yellow vegetable.

The breath Cullen held huffed out in amused awe as he took the onion from the elf. He smiled at her and said, "I think a stew sounds wonderful Merrill."

Nearly jumping with joy, the mage set the bag down and scurried off to collect the cooking gear. Cullen shook his head fondly as Varric came to stand next to him and watch her go.

"You know, it almost seems as if you like her." When the Templar cast stricken eyes at him, Varric laughed. "Not like that, Goldilocks. Don't get your skirt in a twist." Varric chuckled.

"Says the man usually hiding behind it when bandits attack us," Cullen shot back.

He relaxed a bit when Varric's laughter became a bellow. "I can hardly be blamed if Bianca takes a little time to seduce. I have to hide behind _someone_ while I coax her legs open, but it's well worth the effort."

Cullen shook his head as he looked back to where Merrill was setting up the cooking apparatus, giggling with the other women she'd enlisted to help.

Varric sighed. "It just seems as if you don't mind having her around so much anymore. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you aren't going to smite her where she stands."

Now Cullen sighed as he tried to put his view about Merrill into words. "Merrill's use of blood magic spared Hawke a terrible fate at the hands of a magister. It amazes me to find a blood mage who brings harm to no one but herself but I'm more amazed to find I think of her more and more as a friend. "

"It amazes me that you didn't kill her as soon as you found out," the dwarf said, suddenly serious.

Cullen felt a hot throb of shame at the storyteller's words but it was something he knew needed a reply. "Yes I am a Templar… but when everything happened at the gallows, Marian asked me to keep one thing in mind: Who was doing harm and who was not."

"Daisy would never hurt anyone without a good reason." The tone was kind and reassuring but the Dwarf's eyes were wary.

"So I've learned." Cullen sighed, instantly recalling the elf's recoil from them when Phoenix suggested she use mind control on the highwaymen. "The use of blood magic is supposed to be a clear indicator of weakness in a mage but Merrill seems to be turning that assumption upside down. After what happened today, it's enough to make any man question his duty."

"Hey I'm not questioning you – I'm just glad you finally learned that sometimes it's okay to listen to your gut." Varric put an emphasis on this with a poke to Cullen's ribs, making him squirm away.

"Ser Knight!" Bethany called across the fire for him, "Are you going to help with this stew or not?"

The other girls giggled and he blushed out of reflex until Isabela added, "If you make us do all the work, you won't get any!"

There were more giggles and the knight in question straightened his back and marched over to the fire, mumbling.

Varric guffawed and watched him go until Hawke came over and steered him after the tall blond and scooped Phoenix up on the way. She put them all to work, assigning firewood cutting for herself and soon they all fell into a rhythm filled with the sounds of a crackling fire, wood being split open and the incessant chatter around the cooking log.

Merrill smiled so wide her face hurt but the sight of everyone she cared for together and getting along was something she'd never tire of. Later when they were all fed and talking around the fire, she spied Hawke's book. The Champion was bent over it watching them for a while before looking down to furiously sketch every so often on its pages. She decided she'd wait until her watch to sneak a peek.

For the immediate future, however Isabela stood and declared the lake off-limits to all men and strode away from the fire, tugging Bethany and Hawke along with her and a "Come on kitten" to Merrill.

The mouth of the lake was down a slope and the chilly water elicited many shrieks as they all slipped in. But Hawke started chasing after all of them in turn and soon no one minded the cold water.

At one point, Marian stood in the shallows and declared, "It's even colder out here now! I vote we skip the clean up and make a run for our tents."

Bethany eyed the huge rocks near the shore and smiled. "I want to try something."

oOo

"Have you no decency?" Keran shrieked when the girls scurried back to the fire wrapped in just the furs they taken with them and sat down.

Hawke, who was wrapped the tightest and all but invisible under her bearskin, rolled her eyes. "Better get moving before the water gets cold."

The men looked at each other before glancing suspiciously at the women.

"We found this little inlet in the rocks so we heated some stones and dropped them in to make a hot bath," Bethany said with a dreamy air. Instantly, Cullen, Keran, Varric and Phoenix were on their feet and hurrying to the lake, trying all the while not to look too eager. Feminine giggles followed them as they grabbed their bundles and half-ran out of sight.

Moments later, intense debate over who would go first drifted to the campfire but when the girls heard Cullen shout, "Dear god Varric!" and Phoenix cry, "My eyes!" followed by the dwarf's "Hehehe!" they dissolved into giggles again.

"You know what would make this night perfect?" Isabela asked, before she stood and retrieved a bundle from her pack, revealing an Orlesian confectioner's seal.

The sisters Hawke perked up and exclaimed, "Chocolate!" and soon they were all lounging and nibbling on the sweet, lost in their musings.

"Thank you, Izzy." Merrill smiled shyly and laid her head on the pirate's shoulder, staring deep into the fire.

"Anytime kitten," Isabela said and kissed the top of the elf's head before lying her own against it. "Anytime…"

oOo

"Alright Loghain, what brings you all this way?" Alistair went to his desk but leaned on the back of his chair and looked at Loghain impatiently.

"Would you excuse us, my dear?" He asked Leliana and didn't give her a chance to object, steering her out of the room and sealing the doors behind her.

Alistair opened his mouth but the bard's voice through the door stopped his barb. "At least you're not rude about the fact that you don't trust me, general." Her footsteps tapped the stone with more force than necessary as she walked away.

Loghain took a deep breath and mirrored the king, arms crossed over a chair. "It seems word of Kirkwall's trouble with the mages has reached the circle of Ferelden and inspired some of our own to rebel. We've lost Kinloch Hold."

"Maker…" Alistair breathed. "Did no one among the Templars stop to think that telling the mages might be a Bad Idea."

"Of course," Loghain scowled. "They've been under lockdown since word of your Chantry's destruction reached us; no mages in our out and all Templars sworn to keep their mouths shut."

"Then one of your Templars disobeyed."

"Yes, but that's not why I came. What Templars we still have traced their phylacteries first to here and then through Nevarra..."

Alistair groaned and rested his head on the back of his chair. "They've gone to Tevinter." Loghain nodded. "What did you mean by "few Templars"?"

Loghain's expression became pained. "Very few of them survived the circle's fall. And many more were slaughtered in the bombings."

"Bombings?" Alistair couldn't believe anyone who called themselves Fereldan, even mages, would do such a thing to their countrymen.

"They targeted the Chantries, striking at night when most of the clergy and Templars slept. The Chantry in Redcliff was struck during Feast Day and was completely leveled, bloody cowards. We've mobilized who we can but it's not enough."

A mirthless laugh escaped the king as he considered what his rival was asking. "You know, just the other day, Divine Justinia was asking to borrow Kirkwall's Templars. I'm starting to think you're all conspiring against me."

Loghain's mask of calm slipped. "What? The Divine is here?" Suddenly the general was up and pacing. "What is she doing here?"

"She sent the Champion to Tevinter to free her cousin from a magister and wanted a whole company of Templars to go along. If Hawke hadn't vetoed the idea, her Most Holy would probably have forced my hand."

At this, the taller man rounded and said more than a little deliberately, "Strange how mere weeks after our mages massacred their Templars that the Chantry tries to deprive me of gaining reinforcements, don't you think?"

He wanted to argue but Alistair had to admit even he thought the timing was odd. "You really think the Divine is involved?"

Loghain scoffed; no one was above scrutiny as far as he was concerned. "She's from Orlais and everything was fine with Kinloch Hold until Orlesian Templars arrived with an apostate I believe you are familiar with."

"Morrigan," Alistair muttered darkly. A grunt was the only confirmation he received so the younger man continued. "So Orlesians show up at Lake Calenhad with Morrigan while the mages are supposed to be on lockdown and soon after, the mages rebel and flee to the only place they'd be welcome."

Loghain growled as the picture got uglier with every word. "Kirkwall is already weakened after recent events and another Orlesian tries to send some of your Templars to Tevinter? And the Champion, a known mage supporter, gone when things in her native land and new home are turning grim? All too convenient..."

Now it was Alistair's turn to snarl. "Say what you will about Orlais, I know Hawke has played no part in this."

"Touchy subject your highness?" Loghain sneered. "Wasn't it she who was in the middle of the mage crisis here?"

"Almost every report I've read about it says that she called for a peaceful solution repeatedly and that it was Orsino and Meredith who refused. I've heard from countless Templars who swear they owe their lives to her when she could have let the mages have them. She executed the man responsible for starting it even though he was a friend! Hawke does what is right no matter the cost to her."

Without any proof to besmirch the near godly reverence Alistair and the rest of Kirkwall had for her, Loghain knew he'd have to back down. "To be fair, she doesn't seem to have intentionally acted in these events but however indirectly, she was involved and now she's not here, at the behest of an Orlesian whom I have good cause to suspect in our circle's destruction. Either the Champion is complicit or she is in grave danger."

Alistair winced. Neither possibility was good. "Hawke has a knack for surviving when people least expect her to. We will see her again."

For the moment, Loghain would accept that and returned his attention to his request. "How many Templars can you spare?"

Alistair studied Loghain for a moment. "Why are you handling this? It seems a bit odd to send the Warden Commander."

"Ignoring the fact that I would have insisted on going; Anora asked me to come because she trusts no one else. The Wardens do still assist the people when there isn't a Blight. You'd know this if you hadn't run away." Loghain crossed his arms over his armor and waited.

He didn't have to wait long as the younger man practically began to vibrate with anger. "Your shrew of a daughter made it clear I wasn't welcome in Ferelden anymore!"

Loghain growled and stepped closer. "I seem to recall the order for your arrest being made only after you screamed about how you would stop at nothing to see me dead."

Alistair went red and leaned on his desk, teeth bared. "So capital punishment is okay for everyone else who betrays their country but not for you?"

The war hero gripped the arm of a chair as he bent to match the other warden's stance. "I betrayed NO ONE boy! In war, there must be sacrifices. The Orlesians –"

"We weren't fighting Orlais, Loghain, we were fighting darkspawn!"

"And the Orlesians would have had an easy time of it, stomping across our lands after the darkspawn were done with us. If we hadn't already invited them in by the score first! I couldn't leave Ferelden defenseless on a gamble! Even your precious Hero knew this!"

Unbearably livid, Alistair slammed a fist into the wood beneath him. "Don't you even think about dragging Aeryn into this! "

But Loghain hadn't really heard the threat. "Why do you think she spared me? Made me one of you? It was rather poetic, a tactical stroke of brilliance really. When I asked her why, she said she understood why I did what I did and that it was time I understood the Wardens."

Alistair's scoff was audibly indignant. "She wouldn't have sided with you at Ostagar! We had the treaties! We didn't need Orlais! Your paranoia was your own!"

"She was the one who told me about them! Duncan was too busy hiding behind his Grey Warden title to mention them. Had I known –"

"That's exactly why you were wrong! Being sure of something doesn't make you right."

Loghain sighed and tried switching to a more rational tactic. "Then tell me, what possible benefit could there have been in denying me such crucial information if not to lead Cailan into a trap?"

"It's not your place to question."

"And you would know all about not questioning your place, now wouldn't you, bastard son of Maric?"

"When my king," Alistair said evenly, "Gives me an order, I follow it."

"That's very noble but foolish of you. Once the darkspawn finished with us at Ostagar, Ferelden would have been all but wrapped in a bow for the taking."

Alistair's eyes widened comically. "By the Maker! You're willfully ignoring the fact that we had TREATIES Loghain! Promises of support from other peoples which meant they had to help us!"

"And you're being willfully stupid! The_ Grey_ _Wardens_ had treaties for support during a _Blight_! They don't obligate anyone to assist us against conquest! Our armies would have been decimated at Ostagar and those treaties would have done nothing to stop Orlais. THAT is what you fail to grasp! Had Duncan kept me informed, no one would have been lost at Ostagar."

Alistair raised his fist and sent Loghain reeling. "You ass! With those treaties, all we needed was time and you couldn't even give your king that much."

Rubbing his jaw, Loghain regained his footing and threw a punch of his own, knocking Alistair back into the wall behind him. "If I had known about them, I could have given Cailan that time and Ostagar wouldn't have happened at all! My entire strategy would have been different! I had to find out from the rookie that one grand doomed effort wasn't necessary!"

This time, Alistair flung himself over his desk, charging into the general and they went down to the floor with a loud crash. "HOW DARE YOU blame HER!" He started swinging blindly, only half registering the pain in his knuckles as they connected.

Loghain managed to throw the king off of him but not before he landed a few nasty blows of his own and an armored punch to Alistair's ribs. When the other man tried to come at him again, he dodged to the right and swept a leg out, tripping his opponent and standing over him. "I admire her for telling me what Duncan wouldn't and by the time I knew, it was too late to withdraw the entire army. It's him I blame!"

Alistair grumbled, managing to be impressively surly from the floor. Inspiration struck Loghain and he extended a hand. "The Blight was your war; the Occupation was mine. Tell me Alistair, would you ever trust a darkspawn?"

Alistair told himself he only accepted the hand up because he was sore but deep down, he seethed against the glaring thought that what Loghain just said had merit. "The darkspawn are monsters."

"The men that ransacked my home, raped and killed my mother and drove my father and I into hiding seemed every bit as monstrous to me as any Hurlock or Genlock. I will do _whatever_ I must to ensure they never take Ferelden again while I live. Now can you help or am I wasting my time?"

Loghain waited, ready to break a bone if the younger man decided to come at him again but more violence seemed unlikely when the king sat and pursed his lips thoughtfully and reached for a quill.

"I want to make one thing clear to you Loghain," Alistair leveled a glare at him. "I'm only doing this because Kirkwall is vulnerable enough without having an Orlesian occupied Ferelden south of its borders."

Loghain hid his surprise but only just and nodded. "That is how I would see it, were I in your shoes." He gave the slightest of bows and turned for the door but hesitated to reach for the handle. "I must admit, I was sure you'd refuse. I'm glad I was wrong."

"For a time I had decided I was. But kings don't get to be selfish."

Alistair didn't look up from his parchment and Loghain didn't turn around but they both knew they'd established a shaky truce of sorts between them for the time being.

**Author's Note: **_I'm sorry to all who were waiting so long for an update. I had a major crisis of EverythingIWriteSucks. But a friend asked to read my story while she was here and asked all sorts of questions that got me thinking again. So I'm back in the groove! I hope. Please R&R. :D_


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